


mistake

by vonseal



Series: mister underwear model [2]
Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Drunken Confessions, Fluff, M/M, Making Out, Romance, Slow Burn, Unrequited Love, allusions to sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-03-02 14:17:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 37,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13319910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vonseal/pseuds/vonseal
Summary: it was a mistake to fall in love with bin, and myungjun fell for him regardless.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> SO DID I FINALLY FINISH THE MYUNGBIN EPILOGUE TO MISTER UNDERWEAR MODEL?
> 
> no this is a two-shot, who knows when i'll finish the next bit holla.
> 
> if you haven't read [mister underwear model](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11548599/chapters/25933473), this won't make ANY sense. i'm not TELLING you guys to go read it, but it's pretty much required to gain a full understanding of THIS story.
> 
> read the tags, gives you most of the warnings you need to know? there's some language, otherwise, but there ya have it, the dirty gist of the fic. enjoy!

Myungjun first met Bin on a rainy day, huddled in the back of a cafe.

He would have preferred it if a meeting with his one true love _wasn't_ with Dongmin and Minhyuk by his side, but he supposed he couldn't have everything he wanted. As such, he was forced to be seated next to two extremely handsome men (causing heads to turn in the cafe – and Myungjun knew the other customers were not looking at him) as Bin hurried forward, tussling his damp hair and grinning widely at the other three.

“It's wet out there!” he announced. He sat across from Myungjun, and his smile turned wider as Myungjun stared at him. “Hey, you're Myungjun, right? Dongmin's told me a lot about you. You're opening up your own vet practice?”

Myungjun's mouth was dry. Bin's smile was sweet; it was toothy and it pushed up his cheeks and reached to his eyes. His happiness must have been contagious, because Myungjun had smiled shyly back.

“Yeah,” he murmured, then cleared his throat. “S-So, um, you're Bin? Moon Bin?”

Bin nodded his head enthusiastically. “Have Minhyuk and Dongmin ever talked about _me?_ ”

“Sometimes,” Myungjun offered, because even if neither of the two ever discussed their elusive _Binnie_ friend in depth, Myungjun had definitely heard his name before.

(He wondered _why_ they never filled discussions with Bin's name. Myungjun just met him, and already he decided he could write a _book_ about how amazing and perfect Bin was.)

“What do they say about me?” Bin asked, a devious grin now plastered onto his face. He leaned forward, as if prepared to hear some sort of highly important secret, which just gave Myungjun a chance to admire him up close.

He looked even more handsome up close; Myungjun usually assumed _everyone_ (save for Lee Dongmin) looked _ugly_ up close. He know _he_ did, at least, and so he cleared his throat and leaned back into the seat, averting his gaze and praying that he didn't have dark circles under his eyes or a blush on his cheeks.

But he wasn't sure how to answer the question, anyway. He racked his brain for things that Dongmin or Minhyuk might have mentioned, and the only thing he could really remember was, “You're strong, I think. Minhyuk said that once.”

Bin laughed, a little high-pitched, a small squeal at the end as he leaned towards Minhyuk in order to shove him. “He's just as strong as I am! And Dongmin would be, too, if he ever bothered to work out with us.”

“I have my own schedule,” Dongmin complained.

(All Myungjun could take out of the conversation was that Bin _worked out with Minhyuk_ , and Myungjun needed to find a way to do the same thing.)

“Your schedule is being boring, I guess,” Bin sighed. “And being boring involves not coming to work out with your best friend in the entire world. Or...” He glanced at Myungjun, then back again to Dongmin, “have you replaced me with your new boss?”

“I'm not going to have a battle over who my best friend is,” Dongmin responded, seeming exasperated. “We grew up together, Bin, so obviously I'm closest to you. It's just...Myungjun and I have gotten close, too, since he's been helping me out with this job and with...with a bunch of other stuff. Which he does in his spare time when _you're_ off gallivanting with some guy.”

Bin laughed again, a light giggle this time, and Myungjun perked up in his seat.

“He's gay?” Myungjun asked out loud, causing Bin to laugh even harder.

“He's always been gay, he always _will_ be gay.” Dongmin sipped at his tea and added, “But he's never been in a relationship.”

Bin rolled his eyes, leaning forward again to snatch a piece of Minhyuk's bagel. Minhyuk weakly slapped at his hand, but it didn't seem to deter Bin at all, whose gaze was hungry as he popped the small bite into his mouth. “Dongmin, see, he's the more conventional sort. He thinks life should revolve around love and adoration and _relationships._ ”

“And...you don't?” Myungjun asked.

“Nope! I mean, maybe for other people it should. But I'm not-”

“Why are we discussing your personal business when we're trying to eat breakfast?” Dongmin asked, his nose scrunching up in disgust.

“You mentioned it,” was Bin's haughty retort, and he then stole Dongmin's tea, taking a few sips from it before smacking his lips in appreciation. “Anyway, Myungjun, it's really nice to finally meet you! Dongmin likes to talk about you – I think he's very grateful you gave him a job. He always says you're this short, loud-mouth that likes to be bossy.”

Myungjun shot a glare in Dongmin's direction; Dongmin pretended to not notice.

“But I don't think you're much shorter than Minhyuk, are you?” Minhyuk gave a noise in displeasure as a reaction to Bin's words. “And you don't _seem_ like the bossy sort.”

“Because I'm _not_.”

“No, he is, Binnie,” Dongmin assured. “You just haven't gotten the chance to know him.”

“Dongmin, who offered you a job in my new vet clinic?” Myungjun's words were kind, but a thin veil of an underlying threat hung right over their heads. It caused Bin to smile widely, and it caused Dongmin to duck his head and clear his throat.

“It, um, it was you, Hyung.”

He had never minded showcasing his power over Dongmin, if only for the jokes and laughter, but he actually _enjoyed_ it for that time upon hearing Bin clap for him. It was just three quick claps and a thumbs-up, but even that made Myungjun's heart race.

“Way to put him in his place, Myungjun! Dongmin, I really like your friend. Where did you find him? Can we share? Myungjun, do you mind being _my_ best friend, as well?”

Myungjun didn't mind, and he shook his head in enthusiasm, his eyes wide as he stared upon Bin.

“Then it's settled, Dongmin! I'm stealing Myungjun from you. Now he's _my_ new best friend.”

“He can have more than one best friend, right, Myungjun?”

It was difficult to speak much when Bin had suddenly declared the two of them to be _best friends_. Bin did so on his own free will – _Bin_ , who Myungjun found ridiculously attractive and sweet and handsome. Myungjun was now friends with _Bin_ , after only having known him for a few minutes.

He was so lost in his own happiness that he didn't even notice Dongmin staring at him in confusion. “Myungjun? You can answer me, you know.”

“Oh!” Myungjun swallowed thickly, and he heard Minhyuk snort. “Um, yeah, I have a lot of best friends, so Bin is just another one, uh, another one added into my list of friends!”

If he placed Bin on too high of a pedestal, everyone would notice. If he acted as if Bin was special, everyone would catch on.

Minhyuk appeared to have already caught on, a knowing glance sent towards Myungjun as the older boy had stumbled over his words. But Minhyuk was quiet and kept things to himself, so Myungjun wasn't too concerned. It was _Dongmin_ he worried about, because Dongmin, despite keeping secrets well, was about as subtle as an elephant in a kitchen. Not only that, but Dongmin was prone to panicking and blurting things out when he wasn't quite sure what else to say. Myungjun had many a secret spilled simply because Dongmin grew too nervous to say anything else.

“Yeah, but your other best friends look like losers,” Bin stated, gesturing over towards Dongmin. “I mean, have you _seen_ him?”

“What?” Myungjun laughed loudly and shoved Dongmin's shoulder. The boy looked affronted, which Myungjun took great delight in. His favorite activity, after all, was getting under Dongmin's skin. If Bin's favorite activity happened to be the same thing, Myungjun knew they would get along in the coming years. “Dongmin looks pretty when he bothers to sleep more than three hours a night. Otherwise, he has bags the size of Seoul underneath his eyes.”

Bin leaned in close, examining Dongmin's face, ignoring the exasperated sigh. “Looks like today was a three-hour-sleep night, Myungjun.”

“Does it? Ooh, you're right. Dongmin, you look like a loser today.”

“Yeah!” Bin giggled. “You look so awful sitting next to Myungjun! Look at him, he's shining!”

Myungjun's heart skipped a beat. It was so cliched, too, to get all worked up over such a simple phrase, especially something that Bin didn't even _mean_ for Myungjun to take romantically. Still, it wasn't too often that he ever heard someone as beautiful as Bin proclaim that he was _shining_. Such a casual compliment, and yet it had Myungjun trying to reign in his blush.

“You can't really compare the two,” Minhyuk suddenly blurted in, breaking his silence. All eyes turned to him, and he smiled politely. “Dongmin and Myungjun, I mean. There's not much of a comparison, is there? One is obviously far better looking than the other.”

“Minhyuk-” Dongmin started, but Bin cut him off.

“It's Myungjun, isn't it?” he teased.

Minhyuk raised his eyebrows. “Really?” he asked. “You _really_ think Myungjun looks better than Dongmin?”

“Why is that such a hard thing to believe, Minhyuk?” Myungjun snapped, crossing his arms over his chest in mock anguish. “I see myself in the mirror each day! I think I look damn fine!”

“But compared to _Dongmin_ , does anyone look fine?”

Minhyuk had a point there, but Myungjun scoffed anyway, then gestured over to Bin. “He does!”

Minhyuk was a devious little bastard. The moment Myungjun accidentally said those two words, Minhyuk smirked and returned to his drink. “Fair point,” the boy murmured. Myungjun needed to kill him later.

Dongmin, catching on, blinked in confusion. “You think Bin looks fine? You don't think _anyone_ looks fine.”

“Oh, come on, Dongmin.” Myungjun needed to catch himself, to save his own ass, before Dongmin managed to uncover the secret. “I think _you_ look fine. And...and that new bartender looked fine! Until he spilled my drink all over me, that is. And Bin looks fine, too. I mean, probably not as fine as you, but, um, like Minhyuk was getting at, no one is more fine than you.”

“Except for Myungjun,” Bin interjected once more, laughing at the spectacle unfolding before him, at the boys arguing over who looked the best. “You can't deny it, he _does_ look the best out of the four of us!”

Myungjun wasn't quite sure what he did to enjoy such praise from Bin. He _knew_ he didn't look any better than Dongmin did. It was quite impossible to look better than Dongmin. And yet, Bin sat there, praising Myungjun's every move.

Maybe it was all a joke. Maybe Bin was being sarcastic. In which case, he was _funny_ , and he still managed to make Myungjun's heart race more than any guy ever had before.

Myungjun had to remind himself to calm down, to stop crushing on Dongmin's best friend, that it would _never_ work out, and that even if it managed to work out, he would much rather have a soft, steady friendship before any romantic feelings came out of it. But he still couldn't stop staring at him as the conversation moved onto his career, and he still couldn't stop those feelings from pushing against the prison of his heart.

 

****************************

 

Running a business was harder than Myungjun assumed it would be. He thought he was prepared for whatever economic downfalls might come his way, but as he crunched numbers and budgeted his bank account, he realized that there would be no way he could continue to pay his rent. The thought terrified him, and he tried looking into cheaper housing options.

“The thing is,” he explained to Dongmin as they closed up the vet practice after yet _another_ uneventful day, “I'm already living in the cheapest place around. Even the places farther away are too expensive for myself.”

Dongmin turned off the lights, scanning the lobby one last time before he was satisfied. “Why don't you get a roommate?” he suggested.

Myungjun scoffed, stepping outside and locking the door behind both himself and Dongmin. “Do you know how shady people are?” he asked. “If I put out that I'm hunting for a roommate, I might have a murderer come into my room one night and just stab me in the chest. People online are weird as hell, Minnie. I'm not going to risk it.”

He lingered on the sidewalk; he and Dongmin lived in separate directions, and as nice as it would be to have someone to walk home with, he couldn't really justify walking an extra mile just to drop Dongmin off at his place.

“You wouldn't have to find someone online,” Dongmin said. “I could ask Minhyuk and Sanha and see if they have any friends who might be looking for a roommate.”

“I doubt they would. And, besides, even if they did, it would have to be someone who would be alright with moving into _my_ place. I'm not going to move away, not when I already put up all my decorations.”

“ _I want to believe_ posters with those UFOs don't really count as decoration, Myungjun.”

“I only have three. You're making it sound as if those posters are my only form of decoration.”

“Oh. Sorry. I forgot about the one of the astronaut cat.”

Myungjun scowled and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Fine, then. Mock me all you want. It's more homely than _your_ boring place ever will be.”

He had assumed the roommate conversation would end there. Besides that, he wasn't sure if he would want to share an apartment space with any friends that stemmed from Sanha or Minhyuk. He didn't know them, and he automatically didn't trust strangers. However, a week later, Dongmin greeted him as he arrived for work, then said, “Are you still looking for a roommate, Myungjun?”

“Yeah. It's tiresome. I'm browsing the Internet, but I'm pretty sure half the people I saw are serial killers. Or, at least, messy college kids.”

Dongmin seemed nonchalant, and he shrugged his shoulders. “Well, um, Bin is looking for a place to stay.”

Myungjun could have sworn he heard that wrong. He could have _sworn_ that he heard Bin's name spoken, and he could have _sworn_ that it was in regards to roommates and moving in. He spun around from his position, letting his coat drop to the floor instead of the coat rack he had been at. “Wait, what?”

Dongmin blinked. “Bin,” he repeated, “needs a spot.” He seemed to recognize that Myungjun wasn't going to respond, because he expanded on his original sentence. “Bin was living with a roommate, but his roommate is moving away, and Bin can't afford the spot on his own. He just told me last night he was looking for a new place to move into with someone else, and I told him that you two would be a perfect math.

“Y-Y-You _told_ him we'd be a _perfect match?_ ” Myungjun squeaked out, and he covered his mouth with his hands in order to ward off any other unnecessary sounds. As it was, he didn't blame Dongmin in the slightest for looking so confused.

“Well, I think you two would be, anyway. You got along well enough when we met up, and I know that was your only time meeting him, but – come on, he's close enough to _me_ that you should trust him, right?”

Myungjun definitely trusted Bin. He would trust Bin even without Dongmin's assurance of Bin's upstanding character. And, honestly, it would be a dream come true to sleep in the same house as Bin. He _wanted_ to get closer, to maybe strike up a deep friendship that could possibly turn into a soft romance. He wanted to sit on the couch and watch television with Bin, feet tangled together, arms wrapped around each others' bodies. He wanted to go on cute dates and win fun stuffed animals at carnivals. He wanted to share food and drinks and kisses.

But for now, he needed to focus on the roommate aspect of it all. He needed to open his home to Bins' arrival and to make life comfortable for him. He needed to _prove_ his worth, show that he was more than capable of being a great roommate and a fantastic friend and an affectionate lover.

Dongmin, still looking at him with interest, coughed once, and Myungjun glanced up, brutally torn from his thoughts and plans. “Should...should I tell him you're interested?”

Myungjun nodded his head in enthusiasm. “Very interested,” he admitted. “Tell him I'm, um, I'm very interested. Maybe we can schedule a day for him to come by and check the place out? I should, uh...get his number, right? Can you give me his number? I'd love to have it – for roommate purposes, really, that's all, Dongmin.”

Once again, he couldn't blame Dongmin's suspicion as he passed over a sheet of paper with Bin's number written out. It wasn't often that Myungjun lost his cool over a guy, and Dongmin had yet to see Myungjun _flustered_ because of someone. He just hoped that Dongmin's inability to gauge emotions would save him from his inner secrets being spilled.

More important, though, was setting things into motion with himself and Bin. Myungjun would only focus his efforts on _that_ for the time being; Dongmin and his curiosity could wait.

 

****************************

 

**+82-5-345-XXXX**

_hello bin! this is myungjun, dongmin's boss._

 

**Moon Bin**

_the one from the cafe!! hi! how are you. dongmin told me you are looking for a roomate, and i am interested_

 

**+82-5-345-XXXX**

_im interested too_

_in being your roommate!!!!\ (•◡•) /_

_can we meet up? i need to make sure you are roommate material_

 

**Moon Bin**

_and what is roommte materiaal?_

_because i am probably your type_

 

**+82-5-345-XXXX**

_yes_

_my roommate type yeah_

_my type of roommate is someone who wont kill me_

 

**Moon Bin**

_then i am the man for you_

 

**+82-5-345-XXXX**

_yes_

_i know you are_

 

****************************

 

They ended up in Myungjun's apartment. Bin wanted the chance to look around and to see exactly what it was like, and Myungjun certainly wasn't going to pass up a chance to have a cute guy over at his place. He cleaned the two bedrooms and scrubbed all of the tiles in the kitchen and bathroom, and he puffed out with pride when Bin commented, “This place is really nice, Myungjun! Would the first bedroom down the hall be mine?”

“Yeah.” Myungjun nodded his head and gestured over to where Bin was referring to. “I have the master bedroom. You'll have to fight me to the death for that.” He picked two cans of beer from his fridge and passed one over to Bin.

(He was a little upset that Bin somehow managed to take the offered drink without their fingers brushing up against each other – he had always read about touches and electric shocks in his stupid romance novels, and he had seen it portrayed on television quite often, but he had never really experienced it himself, not with any of the short-term relationships he had been stuck in. He wanted to see if Bin was different.)

Bin sipped at the beer and then smacked his lips in appreciation. “I think I might be able to take you on,” he said. “You're definitely not an intimidating soul.”

“Really? Ask Dongmin – he's taller, and he still wouldn't want to be stuck in a duel with me.”

“I can see his point. Smaller means quicker, and you also seem to have a good brain. You might win.” Still, Bin was grinning, and he quickly flexed his arm muscles. Myungjun liked the view; he tried not to look _too_ pleased by Bin's biceps. “But I don't think you can go up against _these_ guns, Myungjun.”

Myungjun scoffed, taking a seat at his small table that was positioned in between the kitchen and the living room. He pulled out the chair beside him and gave it a pat, waiting until Bin was sitting as well to keep talking. “I have my own muscles, Bin. It's not like I need to show off, either. They're hidden, but if it comes down to a fight, trust me, I'll definitely be a match for you.”

He liked seeing Bin laugh, he decided. The boy's eyes twinkled when he found something funny and his lips curled up to reveal his teeth. He had a high-pitched giggle and he jumped slightly in his seat when he found something exceptionally brilliant, and Myungjun found it all adorable and precious. His heart hammered in his chest, watching as Bin found his words so delightful, so hilarious, and wondered if there was a chance they could _always_ be like this. He wanted to be the reason Bin smiled.

He was falling way too hard for someone he was only meeting for the second time.

“We'll have to see,” Bin finally said, holding his beer up to Myungjun as some sort of toast. “When I move in with you, we'll have to get in a fight and see who wins.”

Myungjun blinked. “ _When_ you move in?” he repeated.

Bin seemed to understand where the mistake was in his words, and he quickly backtracked, stammering out, “I-I mean, _if_ I move in. I mean, I like it. I _love_ it, honestly, it's a nice place and you're a nice person, and I don't think I'd mind living here at all, but that's only if _you_ mind it. Because, in the end, it's your decision.”

All was quiet for a second. Myungjun was trying to process exactly what it was that Bin was saying. Bin _liked_ him? Or, at least, Bin liked him enough to want to move in together, after just a few hours of knowing each other properly. It was the sort of trust that Myungjun expected from maybe Sanha, who was young and stupid and liked everyone who held similar interests. It wasn't what he expected from a grown man.

“Myungjun?” Bin's voice, soft and inquisitive, broke Myungjun out of his thoughts. He glanced up rapidly, locking his gaze with Bin.

“Huh?”

“If you don't want me to move in, you can just say it. We can still remain friends. I won't hold it against you. I mean, a dashing, good-looking man as myself? I can compete with your good looks. You've never had _that_ before, have you? How will you ever get dates if _I'm_ with you? All eyes will turn on me, won't they?” Bin giggled again and leaned forward, setting his beer can on the table. “You can use that excuse if you want to turn me down.”

_Turn me down_. It sounded like a rejection for some sort of date, and Myungjun would _never_ reject Bin, not for any reason. He wouldn't reject Bin's date, and he wouldn't reject having Bin move in with him.

“You have a job, right?” he questioned. “The dance studio?”

Bin looked excited, and he nodded his head in enthusiasm. “Yeah! My parents opened it, but I mostly run it now. We have a new kid class starting up in the fall – I might have to get Minhyuk to help out with that. He sucks at teaching kids, but he's the best tap dancer I know.” He noticed Myungjun smirking, and he added, “I mean, if you're asking about my career because of rent, then I _can_ pay rent on time every single month. We make enough money at the studio for me to split rent with someone.”

“Lucky you.” Myungjun snorted and rest his elbows on the table, letting his chin dip into the palm of his hand. “The vet practice hasn't brought in much money so far.”

“You just have to get your name out there!” Bin assured him. “Maybe we can hang up some fliers at my dance studio, and other places around town. I think if we plaster your face on them, people will be more likely to come. _Wow, a hot vet!_ they'll say.”

Myungjun tried to hide his smile behind his hand, but based on the pleased look on Bin's face, his friend caught it, anyway. “We'd get better results if we put Dongmin's face up there.”

“Dongmin? Gross.” Bin stuck out his tongue. “I think you're the true model, Myungjun.”

“You're just trying to make me agree to you being my roommate, aren't you?”

“Not really, but if that's a side effect, I probably won't complain.”

Myungjun smirked. “We'll have to make you a key, then.”

 

****************************

 

It didn't take very long for Bin to move all of his belongings into Myungjun's apartment. He didn't seem to have that much, anyway. Myungjun was shocked as to how someone could live with so little personal trinkets.

“No action figures, or plushies, or accessories for your clothes,” he said, appalled, as he rifled through the boxes Bin had lugged upstairs. “Just boring, monochrome shirts and workout shit and – oh my god, Bin, is this a box of manga?”

Bin didn't seem perturbed by Myungjun's shock. If anything, he looked proud of his collection of weird comic books and graphic novels. “These are brilliant manga, Myungjun. You should read some of them.”

“You don't have those porn ones in here, do you?”

“It's hentai. Why, do you like that sort of thing?”

Myungjun slapped him, but Bin just chuckled and resumed setting up his bedroom.

“We really have to take you shopping, Bin,” Myungjun mumbled, giving a loud sigh as he hung up some of Bin's nicer pants. “I mean, look – your entire closet is just neutral colors.”

Bin glanced over and shrugged. “I don't know why you have such a gripe with neutral-colored clothing. It goes well with anything, and for any occasion. I mean, just think – I could probably wear something like that shirt and some gray jeans out to eat with friends earlier in the day, _and_ I could also wear it maybe to a nice recital at the studio in the evening. What's that called, when something doubles in usefulness?”

“Duality,” Myungjun offered, and then he continued, “but when _all_ of your clothes can double as casual and formal wear, you're doing something wrong. You don't even have a nice suit. I mean, at most, this would be _semi-_ formal wear. And, at most, people would regard you as mysterious.”

“Maybe that's the plan. I'm an enigma.”

“You're boring. You _need_ a pop of color every so often.” Myungjun snapped his fingers and gave Bin's arm a pat. “Wait right here, alright? We're going to test it.”

He left Bin alone for a second, the younger looking very confused at Myungjun's sudden change of attitude, as Myungjun scurried back into his own room. While Bin _had_ just moved in, and while they probably weren't the best of friends just yet, Myungjun felt as if they knew each other well enough for him to make clothing decisions for Bin. Besides that, sometimes he had to offer his expertise even when it wasn't asked.

He rifled through his closet before giving a small, “There we are!” and pulling a pale green sweater from his own stash of colorful shirts. It was soft, pretty, and expensive – all things that might help draw Bin into the appeal.

“Here!” he exclaimed when he rushed back into the room. He showcased his sweater, holding it up cheerfully, and said, “Try this on. We can put one of these gray jackets on over it, and you can just stay in your black pants because this will look nice with basically anything.”

“It's summer, though,” Bin moaned, but he still accepted the sweater from Myungjun, though he looked far less enthused. “And your air conditioning isn't on.”

“It's literally for a minute or two, Bin. Stop complaining.” Myungjun grinned widely and gestured at the article of clothing. “Go! Put it on!”

Once more, Bin pouted. “Is this yours?”

“Obviously. Why else would I have a random sweater in my bedroom?”

“Then do you know how small it might be? You're a tiny guy, Myungjun.”

Myungjun glowered. “I'm only short compared to you.”

“Me _and_ everyone else in the world.”

“You're trying my patience. Look, I bought it online but it came in the wrong size, okay? Too big. And they don't accept returns, so I just kept it in my closet in hopes I might one day come close to fitting it.”

Bin ran his hands over a sleeve of the sweater, muttering, “You have unrealistic hopes, Myungjun.”

“If you don't try this on, I will ban manga from our household.”

His threat seemed to have work, though not without Bin damning him to hell. And before Myungjun could move from his spot, Bin suddenly tore off the shirt he _was_ wearing, pulling it straight over his head with little regard as to the company he was with.

Myungjun's eyes widened, and he stammered out a small, “I-I-I meant...maybe in...the bathroom, um-”

Bin shrugged his shoulders. “We're roommates now. We'll probably see stuff we won't want to, so might as well get started. Besides, I can't imagine anyone who _wouldn't_ want to see this.” Bin ran his fingers down his chest and gave a playful moan. “God, Myungjun, I'm so sexy! Everyone wants a piece of this!”

Typically, whenever Bin acted like a complete idiot, Myungjun liked to mock him. Usually, whenever Bin acted like a complete idiot, Myungjun was there to knock him back to Earth in the form of well-timed remarks and sarcastic comments. However, when Bin looked over, Myungjun couldn't hide his alarmed expression. He couldn't hide his open staring or his open mouth or his flushed cheeks. He scanned Bin's body once, maybe twice, appreciating all the sharp edges, the muscles in his forearms and up to his shoulders, the six-pack he most definitely kept up with. His gaze trailed over Bin's chest and then dipped down to his belly-button. His pants were slack on his waist, underwear barely peeking out, a thin line of hair that trailed downwards visible only slightly, maybe if Myungjun squinted – which he definitely was _not_ doing.

Bin put on the sweater far too soon, and Myungjun blinked, refocusing his eyes onto Bin's face.

Bin didn't seem really perturbed by the staring. In fact, he barely seemed to notice, only mentioning, “I sleep with my shirt off more often than not, so it's something you'd better get used to, Myungjun. I know you probably don't have a god in your presence so often.”

“No,” Myungjun squeaked out. Bin glanced at him, raising an eyebrow, and Myungjun cleared his throat. “Something, um...got caught. In my throat. Sorry.”

“I hope you're not getting sick. Hang in there, Myungjun!” Bin gave him a fist, the typical _fighting_ pose, and a wide grin to accompany it. Myungjun had to blink a few times and fan his heated face once Bin turned around to find a gray jacket.

With the entire outfit ensemble complete, Myungjun was finally able to get a good look at Bin, to see what he was like wearing something of color, something that popped. Bin didn't look too impressed, only muttering, “It's _different_ , Myungjun. I look like I'm trying to make a statement. I look like some sort of fashion guru.”

Myungjun cleared his throat, still struggling to find his voice. He didn't want to seem like an idiot; he didn't want to seem _flustered_ , god forbid, from seeing his brand new roommate without a shirt. He was a strong man, a few years older and more mature, and he wouldn't let something this simple make him such a nervous wreck all of a sudden.

“You look...good, though. I mean, it fits. You look good wearing my...wearing _a_ green sweater. Wearing any color, probably, but green really, um...it fits, Bin.”

“You think?” Bin clicked his tongue up against the roof of his mouth and smoothed out his sweater. “Whatever. Maybe in the fall, I'll wear this again. Mind if I keep the sweater? Since it's too big on you, anyway.” Bin giggled and took the gray jacket off. “It's not like you'll miss it. It still has the tags and everything.”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, you can keep it,” Myungjun assured, nodding his head. “Here, take it off a-and give it to me, and I can hang it up for you.”

“Sure!” Bin did as requested; Myungjun only allowed himself a sliver of a second to glance over Bin's toned body before turning around and hanging the sweater up, taking his time to straighten out all of the clothing near it so he wouldn't make the mistake of ogling at Bin's naked chest anymore. “I hope it's not weird to you that your roommate will be wearing your shirt in the fall.”

Myungjun shook his head, and he was glad he was turned around so Bin couldn't see him smile. “No. No, not weird at all.”

He liked his roommate wearing his shirt.

 

****************************

 

Bin's advertising idea had worked brilliantly. Myungjun placed fliers out in as many places as he knew. He advertised his vet practice as much as he could, contacting local news and media, even, to report on a new practice that opened up. It seemed to do the trick, and soon enough, Myungjun had a steady influx of clients that kept his business running.

“I suppose you have _me_ to thank,” Bin mentioned to him once as they sat in the back room eating lunch together. “After all, without my advertising idea, I don't think anyone would have ever come.”

“You're far too vain, Binnie,” Myungjun snapped, biting into his sandwich. He chewed thoughtfully for a bit, adding, “The advertisements helped, but also making Dongmin my receptionist was the best idea possible. _And_ putting his desk up front, right near those big windows, so that way people can see him as they walk by and think, _Wow, I need to take my pet here where this super hot guy works!_

Bin shook his head and wagged a finger. “No, no, it's not Dongmin. He's just the receptionist.”

“And do you know how long they all spend staring at him? I think I have, like, ninety more female clients than I do male clients.”

“And I bet all of those girls are coming here for _you_.” Bin grinned and he reached out to poke Myungjun's nose.

Myungjun tried not to blush, but it was difficult when Bin made any sort of contact with him. Even now, even though they were clearly friends, even though half their movie nights ended with them cuddling together for warmth, Myungjun still couldn't cease the light beating of his heart whenever Bin was in close proximity to him.

“Trust me, they're here for Dongmin,” Myungjun responded. He cleared his throat and leaned back in his seat. “Little good it'll do them. All he does these days is stare out at the window, you know? He just stares and stares at that stupid billboard.”

“Oh! The one with the hot guy modeling underwear?”

Myungjun gave him a scowl. “He isn't _hot_ ,” he reported. “I've seen him. He looks like every normal guy in this world.”

“He has a nice body. You can't really deny that.”

“So do I!”

Bin snorted, and he had to lean even further to poke Myungjun's nose again. “Dream on, Junnie. You're too soft and squishy to model underwear.”

Myungjun rolled his eyes, tossing the crust on his sandwich away in the trash and mumbling, “You called me hot five minutes ago, and now you change your mind since I don't have abs.”

“I never said you _weren't_ hot. You're just not exactly what a model would look like!”

“Oh, really? Do tell, then, Binnie, what the hell _should_ a model look like?”

Bin thought for a second; based on his amused expression, he was obviously enjoying making Myungjun miserable and leading him on in such a manner. “Well,” he started, “maybe someone with some defined muscles in their arms. Maybe someone with a more _toned_ stomach, some abs to show he works out. Someone who can deliver a good sultry expression, someone who makes both women _and_ men weak at the knees. Someone-”

“Like you?” Myungjun blurted out.

He hadn't meant to say such a thing. The words had spilled out before he could stop them, and he only caught Bin's wide eyes for a second before he stood from his chair and began tossing the rest of the food away. “I just – I mean, you told me _you_ could be a model, and-and it sounded like you were describing yourself, because you're just a vain asshole, so it made sense that you were trying to talk about _yourself_ , and- god, Bin, you should leave. Stop forcing Minhyuk to cover for you at the studio. I can buy my own damn lunch.”

Bin stood from his seat and cocked his head. “You're the one who called me and asked if I wanted to come eat with you,” he pointed out. “Like you _always_ do.”

Myungjun grit his teeth down and began to push Bin to the door. “And now I'm busy. Thanks for the food, Binnie, but it's time for you to leave.”

“Alright, fine.” Bin scoffed and maneuvered away from Myungjun's hands. “I'm going, you little demon.”

“Tell Dongmin to come inside on your way out. Tell him to stop getting off to the sight of Mister Underwear Model.”

“I'll do that.” Bin nodded his head, but before he left, he spun around and grinned. “Just for the record, I _could_ totally be a model.”

“In your dreams, you ass.”

“I'll do some underwear modeling when we get home. You make your decision only after you see that, alright?” He laughed at the thought, clearly joking, and saluted once to Myungjun before sauntering out of the back office.

And Myungjun sat back down, enthralled with the idea of Bin modeling underwear for him, slapping at his own cheeks and trying to calm his own breathing.

Dongmin was right- he had a huge, stupid crush on Bin.

 

****************************

 

Myungjun wanted to kill Lee Dongmin.

As tipsy and possibly drunk as he was, as difficult as it was to even sit up straight, Myungjun knew he wanted to kill Lee Dongmin.

He wasn't quite sure why. He didn't really remember what it was Dongmin had done. He tried to think, to recall the events that had taken place just an hour previously, but everything seemed rather muddled together. It was an outing with him, and with Dongmin, and then suddenly he remembered Jinwoo and Bin. Had he called them? Had Dongmin called them? Did they _normally_ come to these sorts of outings?

Myungjun stumbled in his steps, and a hand came to steady him.

The hand was warm and strong. It wrapped around his arm securely before suddenly being released, lingering slightly for a minute.

“Myungjun,” a small voice spoke, unsure and nervous. Myungjun recognized it, and he glanced beside him. “Myungjun, you, um, you drank a lot.”

His eyes were unfocused, but even _he_ knew who it was. Even in his drunken state, Myungjun was aware that it was Bin walking alongside him, making sure he didn't fall, monitoring his every move.

Bin was so sweet. Bin was so hot. Bin was absolutely perfect, and Myungjun sighed loudly.

He had tear streaks on his cheeks. He wasn't sure why. He didn't quite remember, but he wiped at them anyway and hiccuped. “Bin _nniieee,_ ” he whined, and he leaned into the younger boy.

Bin must have been cold, because he stiffened as soon as Myungjun touched him.

“Maybe,” he whispered, “you should try to stand up by yourself.”

“I can't,” Myungjun responded, and he wrapped his arms around Bin's waist. Bin tried to ply his fingers away one by one, but Myungjun wasn't having _that_. “Bin, I might-I might be sick. Binnie, please-”

“Turn away, then, and puke in the grass,” Bin ordered.

Myungjun tried that, but as he let go and as he spun, he felt he knees shake, and before he knew it, he had fallen to the ground. It hurt a little bit, he thought; his hand was scratched up and he could see blood on it, but he laughed anyway, loudly, and splayed his limbs out across the sidewalk. He closed his eyes, feeling that the world was too dizzy right then and there for him to look at, and instead focused on breathing properly. “I haven't had anything to drink,” he assured Bin.

“Bullshit.”

“I haven't had more than Dongmin.”

“Also bullshit.”

Myungjun moaned and rolled over, curling up in the fetal position. “My stomach hurts,” he murmured, “And...and my _stomach_ hurts. Bin, it hurts.”

“Because you drank too much. Get up, Myungjun. I want to go home.”

Myungjun didn't move for a second, though. He had to think things through. He wasn't sure where they were, but it appeared they were _heading_ home. He remember Dongmin ordering drinks for them. He remembered Jinwoo inexplicably showing up. Maybe _he_ had called Jinwoo. Dongmin had a crush on him, after all. Myungjun picked his head up and wiped off drool from his chin. “Binnie, Binnie, Binnie,” he called.

“I'm here.” Bin sounded exasperated; Myungjun couldn't really tell, though.

“If-if Dongmin is drunk, and if Jinwoo is drunk, then they might fuck.” He rolled over again, then pushed himself up to his knees, swaying gently where he sat. “Binnie, are they going to have sex? Will they fall in love?”

Bin cleared his throat. He wasn't looking at Myungjun. “Jinwoo is straight,” he said. “And...and I'm not interested, Myungjun. I can't – I don't think I can do it.” He bent down, keeping his eyes lowered to the ground, but now, at least, he was on Myungjun's level.

(Now, at least, Myungjun didn't need to keep craning his head to stare up at him.)

“Can't do what?” Myungjun asked, trying to keep his eyes focused properly on Bin. Bin was cute. Bin was hot. Myungjun loved Bin so much, he decided, and he reached a hand out, sloppily patting Bin's cheek. “What is it, Binnie?”

Bin sighed. “You're so fucking drunk,” he mumbled. “How much of this will you remember tomorrow?”

Myungjun just giggled and let his hand drop to his lap. “I'm going to remember _all_ of it!” he exclaimed cheerfully. “Everything! I should drink more! Binnie, let's go home and drink _more!_ ”

Bin didn't look as enthused as he should have. In fact, despite being drunk, Myungjun couldn't remember Bin ever looking so disappointed and upset with him. It was a strange expression to see on Bin's face, and Myungjun cocked his head in confusion. “Binnie?” he whispered, “What's wrong?”

“It's...” Bin blinked. “Myungjun, you confessed to me. You...told me you like me.”

“ _Ohh_.” Myungjun didn't remember that, but Bin never lied. It must be true. Myungjun grinned and nodded his head. “Yeah, I like you!” he confirmed. “I like you _all_ the time! I like you with _all_ my heart! I like to stare at you without a-a shirt on, and I like to stare at you when you curl up on me on the couch, and when you cook for me, and when you look at me, it's all my favorite parts of you, and I think I like you more than anything!” He gasped suddenly, an idea brewing in his brain, and then he tugged on Bin's sleeve. “We could kiss!” he exclaimed. “Sometimes, kisses help us decide! Let's decide, Binnie!”

Bin pulled back from him, now sitting on the sidewalk as well. The street was empty and it wasn't lit very well. Myungjun liked to admire the shadows on Bin's brooding face. Myungjun decided Bin looked sexy when he was so serious.

“You know I never get in relationships,” Bin mumbled, playing with his fingers. “Ever.”

“You...you kiss all the guys you bring home,” Myungjun accused. He was confused now; Bin usually came home drunk at least once a week with some guy attached to his lips. Sometimes Myungjun would be in the living room, finishing up reports or trying to budget out expenses for his business, and two men would stumble into the apartment, hands running up and down each others bodies, guttural moans loud and prominent. Sometimes, Bin would meet Myungjun's eye and giggle to his partner, loudly whispering, “My roommate is here, we'll have to do it in my bedroom.”

Myungjun would still hear them. Drunk people were loud.

He would cry himself to sleep on those nights. He would imagine _he_ was someone who could be in bed with Bin, both sexually and romantically. He would imagine that it was _him_ Bin would come home with, and it was _him_ that Bin would stay with.

In the mornings, Myungjun would make himself coffee, and Bin's one-night stand would creep out of the apartment, bowing quickly to Myungjun with a red face.

Bin would appear shortly later; sometimes he had on a shirt, and sometimes he didn't. While Myungjun appreciated the sight of a shirtless Bin, he always felt a lurch in his stomach when he noticed hickeys lining Bin's collarbones and bruises high up on his arms where fingers had dug in harshly.

Jealousy always reared its ugly head. Myungjun tried not to speak to Bin much on those days.

And now, sitting here as drunk as could be, Myungjun could remember all _that_. Nothing else made sense to him, but images flashed in his mind of all of Bin's partners, the ones that came and go, the ones whose names Bin might not even be aware of.

“Why?” Myungjun asked, suddenly growing somber. “Why them? Why...why not _me?_ ” He sniffed and rubbed at his nose. “I'm not really good-looking,” he admitted, and finally Bin glanced up at him. “I know y-you say I am, but I also know it's all a joke.”

“Myungjun...”

“I-I always agree that I'm better looking than Dongmin, but y-you know I'm joking, too, right?” Now Myungjun looked down, feeling his eyes turn watery. “And...and no one really thinks I-I'm a good fit for _anyone_. I'm short. I'm ugly. I'm stupid.”

“That's-”

“But sometimes I th-think _we'd_ be good. Y-You're better at me than everything, Binnie! You're tall an-and you work out and you're handsome and smart and talented. I wouldn't drag you down, I promise. I-I'd try better. Plastic surgery works, right?” Myungjun felt tears drip from his eyes and splatter onto his pants. “I-I'd spend all my money to look good for you, Bin! I promise! I won't make you ashamed if you date me!”

He sobbed to himself, wrapping his arms around his sick stomach, and gasped out, “I-I just want you to love me like I love you!”

He thought he would have to be alone, to suffer through his heartache by himself, but Bin suddenly pulled him forward, embracing Myungjun in his warmth and rubbing a hand up and down his back. “Sometimes,” Bin whispered, “I think we'd be good, too.”

“Wha-What?” Myungjun couldn't believe he had just heard that correctly. He tried to pull back, but Bin held him still.

“Just stay here, Myungjun. For a second, okay, just let me hold onto you.” Bin sighed and rested his head down on Myungjun's shoulder, his breath hot on Myungjun's neck. “I used to have a few serious relationships. They lasted a few months. But they all ended, and they ended badly, and I think true love for me is a farce.” He ran his fingers through Myungjun's hair. “My mom always had different boyfriends. There was always someone new where we lived. It wasn't ideal, Myungjun. It wasn't fun, to never know who your _dad_ would be on that day. True love doesn't exist, I don't think, for me, and I don't want to lead anyone on.” Myungjun could feel him swallow thickly. “I don't want to lead you on, especially. I don't want us to maybe feel like we have something, and...and I don't think I could handle being away from you if it ends.” He pulled back and Myungjun, despite his tears, could detect regret and longing written all over Bin's face. “Myungjun, _this_ is for the best. You want a relationship that will last, and I'm not the person for you. Just...remain my friend, okay? Just, please, Myungjun, please say that you'll forget about this night, forget about confessing, and just be my _friend_. Nothing more. Okay?”

Myungjun knew it would be easiest if he agreed. They _could_ return to being friends. They could continue the relationship that they _had_ going on.

But then he remembered the jealousy and the unrequited feelings. He remembered crying himself to sleep at night and giving Bin the silent treatment during some days. Could he really force himself to continue all of that, to forget he ever confessed and to live a life in loneliness, knowing that the one man he found he loved so much would never treat him the same?

So Myungjun shook his head. “No,” he whispered, “No. I'm going to remember, even if I have to drink water all night in order to do so.”

Bin looked pained, and he quickly stood up. “We're going home,” he snapped, “and you _have_ to forget. I won't help you remember.” He held out a hand for Myungjun. “Come on.”

Myungjun didn't want Bin's help to get up, and he didn't want Bin's help to remember tonight. He slapped the hand away and wiped tears from his eyes. “No,” he repeated, gasping it out and working hard on pushing himself up once again. “I'll do it all myself.”

He would walk home. He would go to bed. And, when he woke up, he would remember his feelings and his confession and his not-so unrequited love.

 

****************************

 

Myungjun hung up the phone with shaky hands, wide eyes boring holes into his bedroom wall.

He didn't remember a thing that happened last night. All he knew was he went out with Dongmin, ended up inviting Jinwoo along, and, somehow, Bin had been there later, as well. He remembered drinking a lot, fueled by anger and desperation, and then, from there on out, it was a hazy memory, pieces maybe of Bin walking him home, of sitting on the sidewalk, of puking in the bathroom all by himself.

His head hurt. He cursed and let the phone drop onto the bed sheets. He was still dressed in his work clothes and he knew they were more than wrinkled and ruined.

According to Dongmin, he had _confessed_. He had expressed lust and love all at once, all while drunk. According to Dongmin, that was probably the reason why Bin hadn't spoken to him.

Bin had woken him up, setting out a bottle of water on the bedside table. Myungjun had moaned and blinked open bleary eyes, trying to shy away from the light.

“Binnie,” Myungjun moaned; he swore he saw Bin jump. “Binnie, holy _fuck_ , why did I drink so much?”

Bin shrugged and turned away, but before he could move to leave, Myungjun reached out and grabbed onto his t-shirt. “Binnie,” he pouted, tugging at the fabric. “pamper me, please, I'm so sick right now.”

Bin tore out of his grasp. Myungjun's hand remained outstretched, fingers uselessly grasping at thin air, blinking in shock as his roommate had hurried out of the bedroom.

One phone call to Dongmin made it all very clear exactly what had taken place.

He had confessed.

And Bin was rejecting him.

His throat felt sore and his entire body felt weak. A lead weight seemed to drop down into his stomach; now instead of feeling ill, all he felt was a wave of disappointment. It truly had been unrequited this whole time, and it would have all been much easier if he could have never gotten drunk, or at least if Bin had never been around to hear Myungjun's untimely confession.

“Oh, god,” he whispered to himself, running a hand through his messy hair. It was matted, possibly with sweat from the previous few hours, and he tried to comb it down as best he could.

He wanted to ask _why_ Bin didn't like him. He wanted to ask _why_ it couldn't work out between the two of them. But embarrassment was eating at him alive, consuming all of his emotions and thoughts, and he struggled to pull himself up out of bed.

He packed a bag. Running away was stupid and beneath him, something _children_ did, but there wasn't much of an option at that point. Bin probably needed space; Myungjun knew _he_ definitely did, just enough time and space to sort out his own feelings and to figure out what steps to take to ensure he didn't lose one of his best friends.

But, he wondered, would it be too _bad_ if Bin was gone? Myungjun was in love with him, and he didn't know how much it would hurt to watch as Bin continued to sleep with other men and continued to ignore Myungjun's affections. He didn't know if the pain in his chest would only strengthen as Bin cuddled during movie night and cooked him dinner on those days he felt sick.

He didn't know, either, if Bin could ever look past the confession and pretend as if things were normal.

Myungjun also didn't want to _pretend_. He didn't want to ignore what he had said, and he didn't want Bin to ignore it, either. He wanted the both of them to face the confession like men, to come to some sort of mutual understanding, to accept each others' point of views and continue with life, even if it meant parting ways.

He left his packed bags on his bed. He drank a few sips of water and glanced at himself in the mirror.

“Gross,” he mumbled. No wonder Bin didn't return his feelings. His skin was pale and clammy, his eyes bloodshot, dark underneath with heavy circles, and his hair was greasy and uncontrolled.

He couldn't fix himself. Not now. Not when they desperately needed to have a conversation about what, exactly, had happened.

He slowly crept out of his bedroom, first peeking into Bin's room, and when he didn't find his roommate there, he poked his head out the hallway and scanned the kitchen.

Bin sat at their dining room table, texting something on his phone, oblivious to Myungjun's appearance.

Myungjun cleared his throat, gaining Bin's attention – and then Bin quickly looked back down at his cellphone.

“Bin,” Myungjun tried.

Bin didn't answer.

“Um...D-Dongmin told me what I had said. He, uh, he told me what happened.”

Bin remained silent.

“And I understand if you don't feel that way about me. I...I don't expect you to. I saw myself in the mirror, and, um...yeah, I'm too ugly for you.”

Bin let him continue.

Myungjun wondered if he would be allowed to excuse himself to the bathroom in order to throw up. His stomach kept feeling sick, especially with Bin ignoring him.

“Maybe I'm also just, um, I'm not your type, I guess, so I was just...can we maybe discuss this, Bin? I don't want us to be like...like _this_. I want us, um, to understand each other, an-and to...”

“I'm going out,” Bin suddenly said, and he pocketed his phone. He didn't make eye contact with Myungjun as he grabbed onto his jacket. “I'm hanging out with, um, with someone else right now.”

Myungjun bit down on his bottom lip. Bin wasn't going to talk to him. Things were going to remain awkward between them. Myungjun _hated_ this. He absolutely hated this, especially when Bin left without anymore of an explanation.

He hated this all.

He left a note; a childish, _I'm running away to Minhyuk's place_ sort of note. And then he, too, left. He hadn't called Minhyuk in advance, but as he walked the long distance it took, he got a hold of his friend.

“If you expect me to hate Bin for you, you're coming to the wrong person,” Minhyuk said. “Dongmin can hate him. I can't. He's my best friend.”

“D-Dongmin will ask me too many questions and he'll try to bring it up more,” Myungjun stammered, bypassing the bus stop in order to give himself more time to think and walk. “You're quiet. You're like a rock. You'll leave me alone, won't you?”

“Yeah.” Minhyuk shuffled, as if he was moving something, then added, “You knew better than to fall in love with _Bin_ , though, of all people. You _knew_ better, Myungjun.”

Myungjun had known better. He was aware that Bin liked being free of relationships. But his heart had fallen, regardless, and it brought Myungjun down with it.

“Bin likes you as a friend, but you deserve someone who'll _love_ you.”

Myungjun nodded, and then sniffed. “But, I...I l-love _him_.”

“That's your mistake, and that's something _you'll_ have to live with.”

Myungjun kept the phone to his ear long after Minhyuk hung up, knowing that all of what his friend said was true.

He was the idiot. His heart had doomed him.

Bin was innocent in all of this; it was Myungjun who was aware of the consequences and took the plunge anyway.

 

****************************

 

Myungjun didn't really have anywhere he called _home_ anymore. He supposed his apartment was, in a way, _still_ his home, but, yet, it didn't feel like it, not with Bin over there still refusing to talk to him. Bin wouldn't leave, either. Bin stayed there, even as Myungjun came to pick up extra clothes for his brief stay with Minhyuk and even more brief stay at the vet's office.

He hadn't wanted to sleep over at Dongmin's place, but there honestly wasn't much of a choice. Minhyuk's apartment was too far from the vet practice, and the chairs in the lobby of his business were too uncomfortable to actually continue getting anything close to a good night's sleep. Dongmin was nosy, sure, but he was close to the vet practice and he offered a cozy couch as a bed, and Myungjun wasn't exactly crawling with options.

He didn't expect to accidentally follow Dongmin along to a date with Jinwoo, though, and in the midst of their flirting, he felt far too awkward to stay around. Dongmin's apartment was lonely when it was empty, but at least _there_ he wouldn't be reminded of his failed confession to Bin. At least _there_ he wouldn't have to watch Jinwoo and Dongmin giggle and tease, and he also wouldn't be subject to so many questions about his feelings and emotions, courtesy of one annoying receptionist.

The bus ride back was long and tiresome, with a few stops to hop off at and find a connecting bus, but Myungjun didn't mind. He was always exhausted those days, regardless of how much he slept and how well he took care of himself. He was used to it.

The apartment was dark. Myungjun flipped on all the lights he could, but it still felt dark and foreboding. It didn't feel at all like his apartment, with the warmth and happiness, with the stupid paintings on the wall and the cool lava lamp in the center of his living room.

It didn't have _Bin_ , either. It didn't have Bin's bright laughter or his piercing gaze. It didn't have the tickles he gave Myungjun when they were both feeling giggly, and it didn't have his enthusiasm for stupid anime and manga that he always forced Myungjun to consume.

Myungjun set his bags down on the floor haphazardly, not caring that Dongmin was likely to fuss at him for making a mess later on, and he rushed into the kitchen.

They needed more beer. Myungjun had taken to drinking most of it whenever Dongmin _did_ buy a pack. It left him with a delightful buzz and sometimes, whenever Dongmin was unaware or away, Myungjun would allow himself the opportunity to get drunk and to wallow about in tears that he kept locked away through the rest of the day.

He collapsed on the couch and flipped through some of the channels. He found a movie – he wondered if it was a movie Bin would like.

He got halfway through the film before realizing Bin would have _loved_ the crime and thrilling action scenes, and he had to find something else to watch.

Hours passed. Myungjun wasn't sure how late it was, and he wasn't sure if Dongmin was even planning to come back. He texted, but received no response, and so he deposited his phone on the floor beside him with a huff.

Midnight came, and finally, _finally_ , the doorbell rang. Myungjun sighed, unwilling to actually get up and open the door, especially when he knew Dongmin had _keys_ , but when it continued, he figured maybe Dongmin, too, had some drinks. Maybe he was too tipsy to remember where he had placed his own keys. Maybe, an even more awful scenario, he was holding onto an equally tipsy Jinwoo. Maybe they would force their love into the apartment, and then Myungjun would have to take his leave and find somewhere else to stay for the night.

He hoisted himself up from the couch, cursing Dongmin under his breath, and flung the door open, snapping, “What the _fuck_ , Lee Dongmi-”

It wasn't Dongmin. It was Bin.

Bin looked as surprised as Myungjun felt, and he froze before whispering, “Myungjun?”

“Y-Yeah?”

“What the hell are _you_ doing here?”

Myungjun had half a mind to slam the door into Bin's face, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Not when Bin was staring at him with wide eyes, and fumbling fingers. He was still so cute and so precious and Myungjun's heart tugged and ached and _yearned_ for Bin.

Instead of closing the door and blocking Bin out, then, Myungjun snapped, “I could ask you the same thing.”

“I, um...texted Dongmin. He has a blender, and I was...I was making a smoothie. Our blender – my blender broke, I mean, so I was going to borrow his. He never...he never texted me back, so I assumed...I could come and take it and leave him a note. He doesn't use it, anyway – what are you doing here, Myungjun?”

Myungjun averted his gaze and mumbled, “Minhyuk lived too far for me to keep going to work, and Dongmin took pity on me when he found me sleeping _at_ work.”

“You were sleeping at work?” There was concern laced in Bin's tone, but Myungjun didn't want to hear that. He wanted Bin to be indifferent, or to hate him. It would be so much easier to forget about his feelings if Bin just pushed him aside as if he was nothing. But, instead, Bin still seemed to care for him, even if only in a platonic manner, and Myungjun hated that.

He opened the door wider. “Just...get the damn blender, Bin. You're not here to talk to me, obviously. Just take it and _go_ , okay?”

Bin seemed unsure at first, but when Myungjun gestured for him to come inside, he obeyed, stepping in tentatively and clearing his throat. “Is it easy to find?” he asked.

Myungjun rolled his eyes. “You're still useless,” he murmured; the words hurt him even as he spoke them, reminding him that _he_ used to help Bin find things in _their_ apartment. And now, suddenly, it was different. They rifled through Dongmin's cupboards together, an unspoken tension cutting off their own contact with each other. It lay heavy in the air, feelings that had yet to be resolved, events that had yet to be discussed, and Myungjun _hated it_.

“Bin,” Myungjun whispered, “Bin, _please_ , let's...let's just _talk_ , okay?”

Bin glanced up once, and then quickly returned to his blender searching. “It's late,” he commented. “I just need to find this and leave. Maybe later.”

“There won't _be_ a later if we keep doing this.” Myungjun took a deep breath and moved forward. He grasped lightly onto Bin's arm, pulling him from his hunt. Bin still wouldn't look at him, though. Bin still kept his eyes on the floor, and Myungjun wanted to beg, to _plead_ with him, to find some way to make it all better. “L-Look, I know what I said, and...and I _get it_ , but I need to know where we stand now. I know you don't like me back, but I-”

“You really were drunk,” Bin breathed. “You really don't remember.”

“Dongmin told me everything.”

“There was...there was stuff that happened afterwards,” Bin murmured.

Myungjun hadn't ever given a thought to the _after_ of his confession. He had assumed Bin took him home; he had assumed he had mostly blacked out. He didn't think anything important was said or talked of.

“What happened _afterwards_?” Myungjun asked. “He only told me what happened at the bar.”

Bin shrugged his shoulders, and Myungjun shook at his arm. “Don't fucking shut down on me again, Bin. Don't you do it. I'm living in fucking _agony_ thinking about how _stupid_ I was. I never should've confessed, and I'm _sorry_. I'm so sorry I ruined your life, and my life, with one _stupid_ drunken night. At least let's agree to forget it, at least let's-”

“I don't want to forget,” Bin said. He looked up suddenly. His eyes weren't twinkling. He gave a somber stare, but a fire of desire burned within them. “I haven't been able to forget.”

Myungjun blinked. “What?”

“I said, _I don't want to forget_.” Bin stepped forward, and he removed Myungjun's hand from his arm. Instead of dropping it, however, and breaking their contact, he held onto it tightly, pulling Myungjun all the closer to him. “I had told you, that night, when you were too drunk to remember your fucking name, we'd be good together. We'd...we work well. An-And you told me you were ugly, but...” Bin shook his head and leaned in closer. “I _want_ you, Junnie.”

The familiar nickname caused Myungjun's heart to race. He barely heard the next words, the blood pounding in his ears, but still, they were spoken with such passion that it was impossible to miss.

“Do you want me?”

Myungjun _wanted_ to talk it through. He wanted to discover what they now were to each other and how to continue their lives now that his secret was up in the air. However, his heart betrayed him for a second time; it loved Bin when he knew better, and it made him say, “Yes,” when he knew better.

But none of that mattered once Bin's lips were pressing up against his. None of it mattered at all, because while Myungjun was frozen in shock, the tongue prodding at him to open his mouth made him finally move. He granted Bin access, tasting _Bin_ , so unfamiliar and yet so _perfect_. It was what Myungjun had dreamed of, had wished for.

The circumstance wasn't the best. He had hoped their first kiss wouldn't have been so desperate and panicked, but he caved too quickly, drawn on only by sadness and love.

Bin pushed him up against the counter, and before Myungjun could react, he was lifted and set down on the marble slate. Bin pushed some utensils aside; a tin cup with spatulas fell to the ground and a few rolling pins were shoved closer to the stove, dangling precariously over the edge of the counter.

Bin continued his kiss, not once removing lips. His fingers gripped into Myungjun's waist, digging into his skin, and Myungjun moaned out when Bin's hands moved down and took hold of his jeans, tugging at them harshly.

“Bin,” Myungjun gasped, breaking the kiss for much-needed air. “God, Bin, don't stop.”

Bin's kisses trailed down Myungjun's jaw, and he sucked at a spot when he reached Myungjun's neck, causing the older boy to breathe harshly. Myungjun wrapped his legs around Bin's body, hooking his ankles together and thus pulling Bin in as close as he possibly could.

He felt strong hands dip underneath his shirt and trail up his body. It sent goosebumps and shivers down his spine and he pulled Bin off his neck in order to kiss him once more.

Now, suddenly, _Bin_ moaned into the kiss, desire evident in every movement and every sound he made. Myungjun _knew_ this was all wrong. It was the wrong decision to make when nothing had been discussed, when nothing had been finalized, but he couldn't find it in himself to push Bin away. He _liked_ this, he liked all of it, and as Bin peeled away his shirt, he decided that maybe they could hold a conversation in the morning, after this all was said and done.

All of _those_ plans, though, were dashed, because the moment Bin lifted Myungjun again to tug his pants down, he heard a voice break through their breathy whines: “Bin? Myungjun?”

Bin was the first to retreat, letting Myungjun drop to the floor and buckle his jeans once again.

Myungjun knew it was Dongmin, before even looking up, and shame overtook him. His cheeks were still flushed red from pleasure and desire, and with his shirt gone and dark spots littered across his jaw and neck, it was evident that things would have gotten out of control had Dongmin not appeared.

Bin's eyes were wide and panicked, and he glanced at Myungjun once before running his fingers through messy hair. “I-I came to, um, to pick up a blender,” he said. “This isn't what you think, Dongmin.”

Dongmin blinked. “Did...you two make up, then?”

Myungjun reached for his shirt, and as he pulled it on, he couldn't miss Bin's next words.

“It's all fine, this was just a mistake. It's a mistake, Dongmin, please don't...don't think anything more of this.”

Myungjun looked at Bin, caught his eye, and bit at the inside of his cheek, harshly enough that he thought he might draw blood.

He didn't care about bleeding, though, not when Bin's gaze held so much regret and so much fear, and especially not when the boy repeated, far more determined this time, “It's all a mistake.”

Nothing else was said. Bin bowed his head to Dongmin, offering some sort of apology to the wrong person, and then hurried off. The blender was left behind.

Myungjun was left behind.

Dongmin waited until Bin was gone, until the door was shut and things were quiet, to look back at the frazzled Myungjun and asked carefully, “Myungjun? What...what was that?”

Myungjun felt out of breath and he had to lean up against the counter again. He stared at the door, wondering if Bin was telepathic, wondering if God could somehow make Bin turn around and declare his previous words a _mistake_.

“It was...i-it was a mi-mista-ake,” he choked out.

And then he sunk to the floor, still leaned up against the counter, sitting in the midst of dirty spatulas and letting his tears roll down his cheeks, the same cheeks that had just been previously kissed with such passion and desire.

Myungjun first decided to stop loving Bin in the middle of the night, huddled by himself on Dongmin's kitchen floor.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me last chapter: it'll be a two-shot  
> me this chapter: psych
> 
> probably a three-shot instead! sorry folks.

In some ways, Myungjun supposed he didn't deserve a friend like Dongmin.

Dongmin had always been sweet and kind. Sure, he might have been too much of a stickler for the rules, and he might nag Myungjun from time to time, but he was _there_ when Myungjun's entire world had fallen apart, when he felt beaten and downtrodden and absolutely miserable. He was there to sit beside Myungjun at the counters, pushing aside the dirty spatulas and looking worried as he leaned back and stared over at his friend.

He didn't ask questions at first. He let Myungjun cry and cry, only moving to grab a few tissues and pass them off. The burning desire to know more was evident enough in his questioning gaze and nervous stance, but Myungjun didn't trust himself to really speak. He also didn't trust himself to openly display his desperation and humiliation to an employee of his; even if Dongmin was a close friend, he was still Myungjun's _receptionist_ , and their relationship had never meant to be more than that of two coworkers. But there he was, cleaning up the spilled utensils around Myungjun's sobbing body and wordlessly offering small cups of juice to initiate some sort of calm in the tense atmosphere, performing duties that far extended that of a simple receptionist.

Myungjun knew he was being ridiculous. It was _silly_ , wasn't it, to cry after a man who _obviously_ would never really engage in a typical relationship. He had known that as he fell in love, slowly and steadily, with Bin. Bin made it difficult, though. Bin had infectious laughter, a charming smile, and a piercing gaze. He looked good, and he _knew_ he looked good, yet he never failed to call Myungjun the most handsome man on the planet. He dressed in loose clothes when the weather was warm, showcasing toned arms and tanned skin, but he bundled up when cold weather arrived, layers upon layers of coats and scarves and hats placed tightly on his self, looking more like a lovable marshmallow than a man who frequented the gym on a daily basis.

He was everything at once, and Myungjun found him so alluring and addicting, and he had forgotten how much it _hurt_ to suffer rejection.

This rejection was worse than all the others before it, however. This one had crushed his heart, had ripped it into tiny pieces, and had scattered it all across Dongmin's kitchen, quite like those countless spatulas that had ended up alone on the cold tiles, brushed aside as if they were nothing more than a hindrance. They had their use. They satisfied once before. But now they were dirty and useless, until someone could come along and make them sparkling again.

But there was a broken one among the pile. Myungjun saw Dongmin pick it up, saw, through his own tears, Dongmin stare sadly at it before tossing it away, quiet all the while.

Sometimes, things couldn't be made whole again.

He felt as if he had been tossed aside, more violently than the other times. He _knew_ , too, Bin was aware of this; just like Dongmin felt pity to be throwing away the spatula, Myungjun was certain that Bin felt pity to be tossing him aside. His face as he left had been indication of that. Myungjun had seem him through the tears that had been welling up in his own eyes, he had _seen_ the confusion on Bin's face, mixed with regret and longing, and Myungjun knew that Bin would feel shame for tossing him away.

He wondered what would happen if he chased after Bin. He wondered if he _should_ allow Bin to use him as he used every other man he ever brought home. He wondered if they could engage in lust-filled passion, names spoken out breathlessly without a single trace of _love_ strung in. He wondered if he could give into his own desires.

But if it felt like this, it couldn't be worth it. He didn't want to live like that, chasing after Bin's affection, treated as nothing more than a quick fuck, and then having his feelings tossed aside each and every time.

Surely, at one point or another, he would become numb to such emotions.

He refused to succumb to his desires. Besides, he didn't want something quick and easy. He wanted _Bin_. He wanted all of Bin, every bit that Bin had to offer him. He wanted the late nights of pleasure. He wanted the soft mornings of bleary eyes and gentle kisses. He wanted the dates, and the hugs, and the _love_ that relationships had.

Bin couldn't give him what he wanted. And, yet, Myungjun kept on falling for him.

Dongmin had finally stilled next to Myungjun, yawning only every so often and pulling his knees up to his chest to lean his head down into them. He hadn't yet spoken, really, except once to ask Myungjun if he had wanted something to drink. He sat there, though, a silent comfort to Myungjun as the older boy finally wiped at his face, ridding his cheeks of the stained tears, and choked out, “What time is it?”

Dongmin was stirred from his slight nap, blinking suddenly in alert. He glanced down at his watch, squinting his eyes ever so slightly in order to read the clock face, then murmured out, “Around two in the morning.”

Myungjun sighed, running fingers through messy hair. “We have work tomorrow,” he said. “Why are we still up?”

 _He_ knew why. _Dongmin_ knew why. And, yet, the question remained unanswered. Myungjun could feel Dongmin staring at him, eyes still questioning, but he didn't want to look over. Dongmin had caught him in such a horrible position. Dongmin had _seen_ him, begging Bin to continue, his face flushed, his shirt strewn to the floor, his pants beginning to follow. Dongmin had _seen_ what Bin had done to him, all the marks across his jaw and his neck, and he had also witnessed the break down Myungjun had the moment Bin was absent.

Even if he appeared as if he wasn't bothered, Myungjun still couldn't _look_. He was so embarrassed to had been undone by a close friend, by someone he _loved_. He was disgusted to have been reduced to a breathy, whiny state, reduced to someone yearning for sexual touches and giving into his desires.

More importantly, though, he was ashamed it was _Bin_ who had done that to him. It was _Bin_ who made him feel that way and act in such a manner. He was fueled by love, by desperate longing, and it had been his downfall.

Dongmin was quiet for another second or two before he stood from his spot on the kitchen floor, wiping off the butt of his trousers as he asked, “Why don't we go to bed?”

Myungjun nodded and stood up himself. His legs were shaking and he felt another onslaught of tears coming when he caught sight of the closed door, where Bin had just left two hours earlier. “You didn't have to stay up with me,” he said, his voice hoarse.

Dongmin chose to leave _that_ with no response. He instead put a hand on Myungjun's back, leading him out of the kitchen. Myungjun moved towards the couch, which had become his bed in recent days, but Dongmin grasped onto his arm.

“Don't sleep there,” he ordered. “It's uncomfortable, and it's cold tonight. I don't have enough blankets for the couch.”

Myungjun bit down on his lip and tried to shrug Dongmin off of him. “I can handle it.”

“You won't sleep well if it's _there_.”

“Will I sleep well anywhere?”

Dongmin was refusing to let go of Myungjun's arm, no matter how much the older man tugged and pulled.

“Just come sleep in my bed,” he suggested. “It's warm. Plenty of blankets. And it's comfortable. Mattresses are made for sleeping, and cheap couches aren't. You'll have a better night if you sleep on my bed.”

“And where will _you_ sleep?”

“On the bed, too.” Dongmin giggled lightly at the sight of Myungjun's disgusted expression. “Relax, Myungjun. It's large enough that two people can definitely fit without touching each other. I promise, you have one side, I have the other side. You can pretend I don't even exist. I'm not a restless sleeper, I don't snore – you'll be perfectly fine.”

It was a sound, convincing argument as to why they _should_ share a bed. Myungjun was hooked. He hadn't slept on a real bed in quite some time, anyway, not since he ran away from his apartment. It had been couches, either with Minhyuk or Dongmin, and the chairs at work. A bed sounded lovely, especially when he was exhausted from having sobbed for a few hours.

So he didn't put up any fuss. He nodded his head, allowing now for Dongmin to lead him away from the couch and into the bedroom.

“You're already in pajamas,” Dongmin noted, “so why don't you just choose a side and start trying to get some sleep, okay? I'm going to go change real fast.” He let go of Myungjun's arm, not before squeezing it gently, and then hurried off to the bathroom down the hall.

Myungjun didn't waste a single moment in collapsing onto the bed. Dongmin kept things nice, clean, neat – his blankets smelled like fresh linen, and everything was set so beautifully that Myungjun almost felt bad pulling the sheets out from their tucked positions and letting them curl up around his body.

His mind was still reeling from what had just taken place. His lips still tingled from the heavy kisses Bin had planted onto his mouth, and his skin was still bruised in places where Bin had left hickeys, love bites-

 _Love_ _bites_ , Myungjun bitterly thought, and he had to blink away more tears. It was a phrase he always used, though now, with the word _love_ at the forefront of it all, it left a sickening feeling in Myungjun's stomach.

Myungjun only wanted love bites if they were _love_ bites. He didn't want any of this to cover his neck or his jawline. He didn't want to be marked as someone Bin decided to make out with before tossing aside, applying the word _mistake_ to what they had done.

He felt the tears spill down his cheeks, and he angrily rubbed the palm of his hand into his eyes, trying to quiet a choked sob. It came anyway, just as all the sadness bubbled back into his chest, and he was left a quivering, crying mess.

Dongmin found him like that a second time. He had been witness to so many sides of Myungjun already, had seen emotions that Myungjun liked to keep hidden away. And, like the other times, he said nothing. He simply climbed into bed and turned off the lamp beside him. They were apart, separated just as Dongmin said they would be, but Myungjun couldn't take the loneliness. He wanted confirmation that he _wasn't_ insane. He wanted knowledge that Bin was in the wrong here. He wanted confirmation that he was a good person to love.

He rolled over and moved closer, reaching out to clutch onto Dongmin's shirt.

He had humiliated himself enough already. Nothing he could do would further ruin his reputation more than it was.

“Dongmin?” he whispered, sniffling pathetically.

Dongmin hummed once, letting Myungjun know he was there and attentive.

“I didn't mean for that to happen.”

“I know.”

“It just...” Myungjun struggled to explain it all to himself; how was he expected to explain it to Dongmin? “It all went so...so quickly. W-We were searching for your blender.”

“Yeah.” Dongmin nodded his head up against the pillow, mussing his hair. “I saw Bin's text. I realized he'd run into you, and...and I left Jinwoo's place to come make sure nothing was going to happen. I'm sorry, Myungjun, I couldn't arrive in time.”

Myungjun blinked, then tried to peer at Dongmin through the darkness of the room. “Why did you expect something to happen?”

“I...I think Bin likes you.”

So it was common knowledge. If even Dongmin had managed to catch on, then surely it wasn't all that secret. Myungjun swallowed thickly and nodded his head as Dongmin continued, “He's weird, Myungjun. He claims to hate romantic attachments, but he likes _you_. He's delusional. He thinks sex is what matters. He thinks sex will clear his head. And I was worried, because...because he was coming here, an-and _you_ were here-”

“Did you think I'd abandon all my morals and have sex with him, Dongmin?” Myungjun grit down his teeth. “You don't even trust me enough to leave me alone with a man I like?”

“What were you two going to do before I came in, then?”

Dongmin had a point, and Myungjun tightened his grasp on Dongmin's shirt. “I don't know,” he admitted. “Like I said, it happened fast. I-I dreamed about him kissing m-me. I wanted, wanted it. I didn't think about the, the aftermath, I was so caught up in Bin _liking_ me enough to k-kiss me.” He was truly pathetic, and he shut his eyes, closing them tightly. “And he c-called it all a _mistake_.”

Dongmin shifted closer and reached out to embrace his friend. Myungjun wasted no time in burying his face into Dongmin's chest, forgoing their previous hesitance to touch and hug. He wanted validation that he wasn't a mistake. He wanted validation that he still had people who cared for him.

“Dongmin, he thinks I'm a _mistake_.”

“Not you,” Dongmin argued quickly, loudly. “Just what you did.”

“Why did he run?”

“He's a coward.” Dongmin planted a kiss on the top of Myungjun's head. “Ignore him. Forget all about him. You don't deserve someone as shitty as Bin.”

“No,” Myungjun agreed. He screwed his face up, a light whimper leaving his mouth, and as he began to cry again, he managed to blurt, “But I _want_ Bin.”

Nothing Dongmin could say would stop Myungjun's desires. Nothing Bin could do would make Myungjun ever hate him. It was a dreadful longing, one Myungjun wanted to rid himself of, and yet every time he tried, he was reminded of Bin tickling him during long movies, or falling asleep on his shoulder after an exhausting day, or greeting him every morning with the brightest possible smile.

And Myungjun kept falling, over and over again, into the thought of Bin.

 

****************************

 

He pretended things were fine after that. He woke from Dongmin's arms early in the morning, slipping out of the man's loose grip, and hurrying into the bathroom in order to clean his face of the tears he had shed the night before. He showered, washed his hair, dressed in nice clothes, but he _still_ noticed such a heartbroken look that had taken over his expression.

Dongmin came in behind him as Myungjun poked and prodded and pinched at his own cheeks. “Um, g-good morning, Myungjun,” Dongmin greeted, bowing his head respectfully, though there was no need to do so. It was obvious he was still feeling awkward from their close proximity overnight, nervous, too, from the things he had witnessed just hours previously. “Did you...sleep okay?”

“Fine,” Myungjun responded curtly, and he pulled back from the mirror, resigned to just look terrible for the rest of the day. He didn't have time to fill in his dark, under-eye circles with coverup, nor did he have more of an opportunity to practice smiling casually. He would just have to go as he was and hope no one noticed much of anything.

He brushed past Dongmin, ignoring whatever else the man was trying to tell him, and made a quick beeline for the kitchen, pulling out leftovers that he had set aside for their lunches. He hardly ever made Dongmin's lunch for him, but he figured it would be a way of repaying him for the previous night without ever having to bring it up.

Unfortunately, Dongmin followed him after he got himself ready, still quite uncomfortable. “Do...do you want to talk, Myungjun?”

“No.”

Dongmin nodded his head wisely, and he reached a hand out to grab his lunch container from Myungjun. “You didn't have to do this,” he murmured. “I was going to take us out to lunch.”

“Let's save our money.” Myungjun would much rather eat alone in his office where he wouldn't have to talk to anyone, especially not Dongmin. He couldn't face his friend like that, not after how he acted in front of him. “Besides, these are already done.”

“Myungjun-”

“What makes you think I want to talk about this?” Myungjun glared over at Dongmin and balled up his hands into fists.

“I think it's important to talk about-”

“Not with _you!_ It's none of your business, Dongmin.”

“I come home to my two best friends making out on _my_ counter space, so I-”

Myungjun didn't want to hear that. He didn't want to be reminded of how _stupid_ he had been, of how desperate for Bin he was. He didn't want to be reminded of the bites across his neck, or the sorry state of his appearance, or of his willingness to let Bin discard his clothes.

He didn't want to be reminded of Bin calling it all a mistake.

He was upset, angry, and humiliated. He didn't _want_ Dongmin to bring it up, especially when he had said not to, and so he slammed his own lunch container onto the counter. It cracked, and food splattered across the area.

Myungjun noticed that Dongmin had flinched from the sudden movement, but he didn't care much about what Dongmin thought of him.

“I said I _don't want to talk about it_ ,” Myungjun snapped, his voice wavering. “Why can't you understand that, Dongmin?”

“I don't understand why you let Bin kiss you!”

Myungjun had been so caught up in Bin, he couldn't help it. Bin was infectious. Bin was alluring. Bin was kind and smart and sweet and cute, and Myungjun _loved him_. And when the man he loved confessed his own feelings and then initiated a kiss, it was near impossible to say no.

So he didn't understand what Dongmin found so confusing about it all. He didn't get why Dongmin couldn't accept that Myungjun loved Bin, as stupid and ridiculous as it was. He didn't know why Dongmin couldn't read his mind and figure it all out for himself, because then Myungjun wouldn't have to grip at the counter and blink back tears as he choked out, “I love him!”

Dongmin blinked once, and so Myungjun continued.

“Y-Y-You teased me for liking him, but I _love_ him. I l-love him so much, an-and it _hurt_ to know he didn't love me back, but h-he _does_. He said he has feel-feelings for me!” Myungjun cried again, finally, breaking down in the midst of the mess he had just made. “But he wo-won't _do_ anything! He's sc-scared of relationships. _That_ was all he could give me, an-and I wanted to take it. I wanted t-to accept anything he had to offer me. Even if I, I was his _mistake_ , even if he didn't _mean_ to, I wanted it all.” Myungjun buried his head into his hands and shook. “Oh, _god_ , Do-Dongmin, it hurts even more now! He-He loves me but he doesn't _wa-want_ me!”

He felt pathetic once more. He knew Dongmin must perceive him as such, sobbing violently over someone that was _known_ to push aside romantic interests. His heart had fallen, regardless of what Myungjun had to say to it, and now he suffered the consequences. It was only natural. It was only expected.

And, yet, Dongmin didn't shove him aside with a roll of his eyes, as he might should have. He didn't lecture Myungjun of the dangers of loving Bin, and he didn't offer advice from the point of view of a man who found true love. Instead, he stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Myungjun from behind and leaning into him, letting his chest press flush up against Myungjun's back.

“I don't think you want to hear that you were stupid to love him.”

Myungjun shook his head quickly, trying to control his breathing and put an end to the tears flowing down his cheeks.

“You were, though.”

“Le-Leave me alone, Dongmin.”

Myungjun gave a weak attempt to escape Dongmin's embrace, but when that clearly wasn't going to work, he sighed and let his body go slack, held up only by his hands on the counter and Dongmin's arms around his waist.

“But I would never blame you.” Dongmin laughed, light and airy in Myungjun's ear. “Imagine, Myungjun, if Jinwoo really _had_ been straight. If, from the moment we met, our relationship was doomed. It was the most probable thing to happen. I _expected_ it, really, and I told myself not to fall in love because I would just end up hurt. But I fell in love anyway.”

He moved away from Myungjun and began to clean up the small mess of food. “Everyone does it. The heart chooses who it loves. You just have to hope it's with someone who will love you back the same way.”

Myungjun stepped back from the counter, rubbing at his cheeks and watching Dongmin through his watery eyes. “What do I do _now_ , though, Dongmin?”

Dongmin glanced at him and offered a soft smile. “You find true happiness.”

“I don't know how to do that without Bin.”

“Well,” Dongmin threw the ruined container into the trashcan. “I think your heart will figure out how to mend itself. Hearts can take quite a number of blows.”

Myungjun let his fingers roam down to his own chest, and he felt the heartbeat against his clothes. “I think mine suffered too many to heal,” he admitted, letting out a large exhale of breath. “I think it's too broken to ever be mended.”

“If it can't heal itself, then someone else will heal it for you,” Dongmin said.

Bin broke his heart.

Bin should heal it back.

Myungjun made up his mind; he still wanted Bin.

 

****************************

 

Dongmin and Jinwoo came home one Saturday night a little earlier than Myungjun thought they would. It wasn't yet midnight, and yet they both walked through the door with wide smiles on their faces and hands grasped onto each other.

Myungjun looked up from where he was packing his small backpack, brown eyes wide as he stared at the two younger men.

“What are you guys doing home?” he asked.

Dongmin closed the door behind him and raised his eyebrows. “It's my apartment,” he pointed out. “Jinjin and I came back to watch a film. We were going to cook popcorn and get some soda – Myungjun, _why_ are you packing a bag?”

Myungjun wrinkled his nose. “ _Jinjin?_ ” he questioned.

Jinwoo shrugged his shoulders. “It's my new pet name,” he responded, seemingly unashamed with such a _cute_ nickname. He took off his shoes, then stepped forward before Dongmin could. “Let's watch a movie, Myungjun, before I head home.”

However, Myungjun was undeterred from his original mission. He shook his head and continued to pack, grabbing his folded clothes that he set aside and stuffing them far down into his backpack to ensure he had enough room for all of his toiletries, as well. “I'd rather not.”

“Are you moving out?” Dongmin questioned.

“Well, I'm going back home.” When he looked up, Dongmin seemed confused, and so Myungjun clarified, “To _my_ apartment.”

“But...but _Bin_ is there.”

Myungjun rolled his eyes. “Genius,” he remarked. “Thanks for noticing.”

He could understand Dongmin's concern. For the past few days, Myungjun had been nothing short of a wreck. Dongmin had canceled quite a few dates with Jinwoo, as well, in order to offer his friend the most comfort possible. He had endured watching sad, romantic films and passing Myungjun tissues during all of them. He had sacrificed half of his bed every single night and allowed Myungjun to curl into him. He had cooked all of their meals, making certain that they were Myungjun's favorite foods. And, during it all, he hadn't complained. He hadn't even opened his mouth to _start_ complaining. He hadn't asked Myungjun how he was, and he hadn't given advice on how to get better. He had simply been there, as the closest friend Myungjun had ever known, and now it must have been a shock, watching as Myungjun was suddenly prepared to face Bin once more.

But Dongmin knew him long enough to understand that Myungjun never quit. When they opened the vet practice under Myungjun's name, there were too many obstacles standing in their way. A business permit had been difficult to come by, as Myungjun hadn't even yet worked as a vet's assistance and no one assumed he would succeed. Furnishing it was a nightmare, but Myungjun worked long days, sometimes close to eighteen full hours, to prepare it properly for the opening day. And, when no guests came, Myungjun did whatever it took to advertise and get word out there, including dragging Dongmin to a dog park and showcasing him as, “the bright, young man who will help to ensure the best possible quality care for your pets!”

They had met, too, in a way that required Myungjun's pure determination. Myungjun had simply seen him on the university campus one day as he scrounged about for bright, young students to take up as a vet receptionist. And Dongmin, still studying, with his perfect face and polite manners, was instantly the only candidate Myungjun felt he needed.

Except, Dongmin was already working as the receptionist for Bin's dance studio, and despite his studies being concentrated in veterinary work, he was very loyal to his job, and he was reluctant to leave Bin alone.

Bin wanted him to pursue his dreams, and so Dongmin called Myungjun one day with a quick and simple, “I'll take the job.”

(Myungjun had thanked Bin when he learned what Bin had done for him. Now, though, it all left quite a bitter taste in his mouth.)

Dongmin was still staring at him, in what appeared to be shock, and Myungjun scoffed as he tossed the last of his possessions into his bag. “Don't look at me like that, Dongmin.”

“But, you-”

“I'm paying rent on the place, so I might as well return, right?” Myungjun zipped his backpack up and then stood from his seat.

“Did you even think this decision through?”

“Yeah. Ten minutes ago, when I _made_ the decision.”

It had been sudden, Myungjun wasn't going to deny that. He was prepared for another long night in watching romantic dramas and crying into Dongmin's couch pillows when he suddenly got an alert on his phone that his rent was due. It reminded him that Bin was still over _there_ , still just out of reach, still hiding away from everything. He had plenty of time to come and apologize, and it was clear that he would never do such a thing. Dongmin had already stated that he didn't want Myungjun racing back to him at all, but Myungjun felt as if there was no _choice_. He didn't want to continue to live like Bin, hiding like some sort of coward. He didn't want to rely on Dongmin to pick him up when he was down, to comb his hair for him, to feed him and to wash his clothes. He felt disgusting, all of a sudden, realizing that he had just given up on everything all because of Bin.

He didn't want Bin to continue hurting him. He didn't want to be forever broken because of _Bin_. It would be far better for him to face everything head-on. If it hurt, then he wouldn't be hurt anymore than what Bin had already done to him. He could handle it.

“Why would you go back to Bin?” Dongmin asked. “After the way he treated you? You'll just return to him?”

“I'm not returning to _him_ ,” Myungjun retorted. “I'm returning to my apartment. It's _my_ place. Bin is _my_ roommate, and why should I keep paying half of the rent when I'm not even there?”

“He _hurt you_ ,” Dongmin snapped. “I saw what he did to you. Could you really just shove all of that aside as if it was nothing?”

“I could. Now, move, Dongmin, I need to get down there before it's _really_ late.”

“I called him,” Dongmin blurted out, and when Myungjun stared harshly at him, he had least had the audacity to appear sheepish. “I, um, I called him and...he's an asshole, Myungjun. You don't...you don't deserve someone so _stupid_. You don't deserve someone who's going to just, just _do that_ to you.”

Jinwoo might as well have been invisible; Myungjun only had eyes for Dongmin, eyes burning with anger and confusion.

“Why the fuck did you call him?”

“Because you wouldn't get out of bed! Because you wouldn't shower! Because everything you did made you _cry_ , Myungjun, and do you think I can handle seeing my best friend-”

“ _Bin_ is your best friend. I'm just your boss.”

Dongmin's nostrils flared as he stared right back down at Myungjun. “Is that what you think?” he questioned. “That, that all I see you as is my _boss?_ That I didn't just care for you and help you-”

“I didn't ask you to care for me!”

“You weren't doing it yourself!”

Myungjun grit his teeth down, his knuckles white from the tight grip he had on his bookbag. He shoved past Dongmin, who stumbled back, hitting shoulders with Jinwoo. “I'm going home,” Myungjun snapped. “You can't stop me.”

“Like I'd want to stop you from ruining your own life anymore.” Dongmin crossed his arms over his chest. “Bin was my best friend growing up. I've been with him _ages_ , Myungjun, but _you_ were the one who was hurt. Bin was in the wrong. I made my own decision based on how Bin treated someone who loved and cared for him, and I decided to help _you_ and to side with _you_.” He shook slightly, and Jinwoo moved forward, wrapping an arm around Dongmin's waist and glancing over worriedly at Myungjun. “I didn't cut off my friendship with Bin for _my boss_ – I cut it off from someone else I consider a friend.”

Myungjun didn't _want_ Dongmin to say these sorts of things. He didn't want to hear how Dongmin considered him a friend, or how Dongmin was tossing away Bin for his sake. It made it more difficult to leave and reconnect again with the man he loved. It made him want to stay with Dongmin, to allow himself to be coddled more, to focus on his friendship rather than a relationship that was doomed from the beginning.

However, he knew if he turned back now, if he agreed with Dongmin that Bin was an asshole and Bin wasn't worth his time, then he would probably never again gather enough courage to see Bin again. He would allow the man he loved to remain distant, while he cowered away, too. It wasn't how he wanted to be.

He wanted to face Bin. He wanted to accept that Bin would never be with him, and he wanted to live through it bravely.

And so he took a deep breath, fixing the position of the bag slung across his shoulder.

“You _are_ my friend, Dongmin. O-Other than Bin, you've always been one of my best friends. But I'm not going to stay here, okay? I want Bin back.”

“He's not going to accept you.”

Myungjun shrugged.

“He won't want you there.”

“Is this your attempt to get me to stay here? _Why_ do you even want me to stay here? I'm taking up space, I'm not paying rent-”

“Because you're an idiot! Because the moment Bin makes another move on you, you're going to cave, Myungjun. And he's not _looking_ for anything more, whereas _you_ are, and if you do this, if you just go right back to him, he'll show interest, and you're going to give in!” Dongmin stepped forward, letting Jinwoo's hands fall, and he grabbed at Myungjun's arm. “I don't want that to happen to you. I don't want to see you even more heartbroken than how Bin has already left you.”

The sentiment was sweet. Dongmin _cared_ for him, so much, and Myungjun liked the affection that his best friend held for him. However, he didn't want to continue being treated like a child. He _knew_ that he was weak-willed when it came to Bin. He knew he would fall for whatever flowery words Bin had, for the kindness and love Bin would portray, and he knew it would all come crashing down right afterwards.

But he still wanted to try it. He wanted to run back to Bin, like the stupid, hopeless romantic he was. He wanted to experience love, no matter how Bin tried to push him aside, and so he pulled away from Dongmin's grip.

“I'm going,” he breathed out. “And I'm not coming back here.”

Dongmin didn't look betrayed, nor did he look angry. He just seemed resigned, and he gave a sigh as Myungjun stepped outside of the apartment and shut the door calmly behind him.

All he wanted now was Bin.

 

****************************

 

Bin wasn't home, though.

Myungjun had knocked cautiously on his front door, and when he received no answer, he stepped inside, peering around at the darkened living room and examining all of the items sitting about.

He still _lived_ there, unless he just left a few manga sitting on the table, or unless he decided to move without washing a few dishes. It seemed homely, just as Myungjun remembered it, and he sighed as he set down his bags.

“Bin?” he called out, glancing down the hallway. Both bedroom doors were closed, and the lights were all off throughout the apartment.

Saturday night meant one of two things for Bin; he could be at his dance studio, perhaps attending and directing a recital of sorts, _or_ he could be out at the clubs. He didn't often stay home on Saturday evenings, unless Myungjun specifically requested him to.

He stayed with Myungjun all the time, that meant. He would play a board game instead of going out and getting wasted. He would cry over stupid dramas instead of answering texts from his friends. He would listen as Myungjun complained about work or his empty love life or his desire for a pet, and he would offer advice through it all.

Myungjun had always known, though, that Bin wasn't his to keep. Bin had a life outside of Myungjun's unrequited love, and Myungjun would sullenly watch as Bin slipped through those doors, and he would listen as Bin came back hours later, wasted and locked to the lips of another man.

Myungjun wondered what sort of night it was for Bin. He glanced at his watch; it was nearing eleven.

“Drinking, then,” Myungjun mumbled to himself, running a hand through his hair.

Bin would come home drunk. Bin would also probably come home with someone he met at the club. Myungjun, still completely in love, would have to endure those sounds all night long.

He bit down on his lip and glanced at his phone. Part of him contemplated calling Dongmin to beg for forgiveness and request spending one more night with him.

But he couldn't do _that_ , either. He couldn't run away when he had already come so far out of his comfort zone. He was home, and he might as well cover his ears and pretend nothing at all was going on in the room right beside his own.

(And that's exactly what he did, in the end. He lay on his bed, humming along to the music playing in his ears.

Bin wasn't a quiet drunk, especially not with another man. He was loud, moaning as he came through the door, sloppy kissing evident even from so far away. He bumped into the walls, apologized to whatever partner he had, and suggested lewd activities.

He was even louder as he got to the bedroom. He was definitely vocal with his pleasures. Every sound he made was dreadful to Myungjun's ears. He wanted to block it out; he wanted to block everything out.

And so Myungjun turned up his volume until the sounds were non-existent. Myungjun closed his eyes. Myungjun pretended that Bin only cared about pleasing him.

Myungjun cried all night.)  


 

****************************

 

Myungjun had seen his fair share of one-night stands awkwardly leave his apartment. Usually, they got out early enough that he wasn't aware of them, but there were quite a few who slept in, and as Myungjun readied himself for work, he'd see them sneak out of Bin's room. They'd notice him standing in the kitchen, staring back at them, and with red cheeks and shameful eyes, they would scurry off, heads bowed as they tried to avoid anymore judgment.

However, _that_ morning was different, because it was _that_ morning when Myungjun discovered that the one-night stand Bin brought home was _very_ unashamed of the events that had taken place just last night, and seemed _very_ comfortable with drinking coffee at the dining room table.

Myungjun's heart jumped in his chest at the sight, frightened at the strange man before common sense reminded him that the man knew Bin – more so than Myungjun would ever know him, too.

And then he just felt frustration, and he reached for his own cup of coffee.

“Good morning!” the man cheerfully greeted.

Myungjun gave a grunt in response, not quite in the mood to exchange pleasantries with someone he automatically hated for stealing Bin's attention away from him.

He glanced over his shoulder. The man was staring at him curiously. He had dark hickeys around his neck, and his hair was tangled and frizzy. He wore one of Bin's old t-shirts and a pair of Bin's sleeping pants, and Myungjun gripped harshly at the handle to his coffee mug, turning his gaze away and training it solely on the microwave.

Why was Bin's one-night stand talking to him? That wasn't _normal_ , that wasn't right, and Myungjun would really rather not hear the man's voice inside of his head all day long. He didn't want to be reminded that Bin chose some random _guy_ over him, chose a quick fuck over a gentle love, and yet this man was here only to remind him of those facts.

Myungjun gulped down the rest of his coffee before setting his mug down in the sink and turning on the water to soak it.

He grabbed his lunch from the fridge, stalling for a few seconds before forcing himself to face the man once more.

The man still stared.

With steely determination, Myungjun ordered, “You need to get out of here before Bin wakes up. Also, I don't necessarily _like_ you using my coffee machine. You're not really an invited-”

“Oh, _you're_ Myungjun!”

Myungjun blinked, a little confused with having been interrupted from his tirade. The man noticed Myungjun's expression, and he smiled, gesturing over to the nametag clipped to Myungjun's scrubs. “Your tag. _Myungjun_. I was wondering – so, what, are you a doctor?”

“A...vet.” Myungjun cleared his throat, fingers fumbling with his lunchbox. The man gave a small _ah_ and resumed drinking his coffee. “How did you, um, how did you know my name?” Myungjun asked when it became clear the man wasn't going to explain himself.

With a smirk, the man set his mug down and leaned forward, elbows propped up on the table. “From Bin.”

“What?”

“He was _wasted_ last night,” the man explained – though Myungjun didn't feel as if he was explaining the correct thing. “I've had sex with him before, you know. Once or twice. You start losing track after a while.”

Myungjun blushed; he wasn't sure how someone could be so open about their lack of modesty, but he chose not to make a comment.

“Bin also isn't overly vocal during sex. Moaning, sure, he does like to do that, and it's nice to hear, but he doesn't say _names_ , mostly because I'm almost one hundred percent certain he doesn't know any names of the men he sleeps around with.”

Myungjun had half a mind to cut this guy off. He didn't want to hear intimate details of Bin's sex life. It made his stomach twist and turn, made his heart crumble into small pieces.

“But he said your name last night.”

He wasn't sure he heard that correctly. Myungjun glanced up, staring at the man with wide eyes, and stammered out, “He-He did _what?_ ”

“It was weird,” the man mused. “It all seemed fine, and then he suddenly got all teary-eyed, and his movements weren't as amazing as they normally are, and he started gasping out _Myungjun_. I asked him who Myungjun was, and he never really answered. He just kept saying your name.” The man laughed suddenly, shrugging his shoulders. “I just figured it was an old love, maybe an unrequited love. I didn't know it'd be his _roommate_. Mm, I hope things aren't weird between the two of you now. Or, if they are, wouldn't that be exciting?”

Myungjun's heart raced in his chest. He had to sit down, for fear his knees might give out, and grip at the edge of the table. His fight with Dongmin was forgotten. The fact that he might be late for work was forgotten. All he could think of, all he could _imagine_ , was Bin calling out for _him_ during a drunken, lustful night.

Bin was a coward.

Myungjun had been fully aware of that ever since he had asked Bin to discuss his own confession, and ever since he witnessed Bin run from the entire issue. This just solidified Myungjun's stance all the more, that Bin loved him and yet refused to do anything about it.

And it _hurt_. The knowledge that Bin was willing to pretend other guys were _him_ while staying far away from any sort of relationship was painful. Myungjun felt worthless, realizing Bin passed him over time and time again while still holding onto his _love_ for him. Bin _loved_ him, if his own words were any indication of that, but Bin refused to even _try_ for a relationship.

“Do...do you love him, by any chance?” the man asked suddenly. Myungjun's head snapped up, eyes glaring, and the man smiled despite Myungjun's expression, continuing, “Because I think you do. And I think you need to work hard and get him. He's indecisive. He's just a kid who doesn't really know what he wants. Show him that he has everything he'd _need_ right in you.”

Myungjun still stared, and the man laughed. “Don't worry about _me_ , though. There are tons of other willing men out there who'll probably pound my ass just as well as Bin can.”

“I'm leaving.” Myungjun stood, his chair scraping the floor behind him. He fixed his hair and steadied his breathing and then demanded, “Get out of my apartment.”

“Oh, I definitely will. And it doesn't look as if I'll be back.” The man also stood, saluting to Myungjun. “Have a great day at work. I'll just grab my clothes and I'll be on my way, okay?”

But Myungjun left before the man could. He didn't stay to see if the man left Bin's clothes behind, or if the man would give Bin any sort of kisses or affection before heading out. He couldn't stand to stay in that apartment for any longer, not with the knowledge of Bin's drunken slip-ups, not with the knowledge of Bin still _loving_ him.

He couldn't help but cry on the way to work, on the short walk from his apartment to the vet practice. He looked pathetic, and he was well aware of it. People passing by were probably wondering what was wrong with the man sobbing into his jacket sleeve and trying desperately to wipe at red-rimmed eyes. No one said anything, and Myungjun was grateful of that fact. He didn't want to explain himself to a stranger. He didn't want to explain that he was in love with a man who loved him back and yet had no desire to start a relationship.

When he entered his work, Dongmin was already seated, steely gaze trained on Myungjun's figure as he walked through the door. Myungjun ducked his head, trying to hide his shameful state, but Dongmin was quick to catch on.

“He hurt you again, didn't he?”

Myungjun sniffed and tried to flatten his frizzy hair. “He was drunk.”

“So he brought home another man?”

Myungjun refused to grace that question with any sort of answer. Dongmin didn't seem to need one, anyway. He sighed heavily and returned to his paperwork. When Myungjun glanced up at him, he could tell his friend was determined to stay silent, even though the concern shone in his expression. A feeling of guilt seeped into Myungjun's stomach and settled there as he remembered their fight from last night.

“You know I have to do this,” Myungjun said, his voice hoarse. “And...and it hurts. But I can't act like a coward.”

“It's not cowardly to give up on someone who clearly won't respect you.”

“It's cowardly to run away.” Myungjun hung his jacket up behind Dongmin's desk and took a deep, shuddering breath. “Bin ran away from me. I'm not going to do the same thing. I'm going to stay there. He can choose what to do next. He can face me, or he can run. If he...if he runs again, I won't chase after him. I'll stay away. I'll let him leave.”

Dongmin didn't look at him, but he _did_ nod his head in understanding. “Good,” he murmured. Suddenly, he reached out, gently grasping onto Myungjun's arm, and he rubbed at it gently, his gaze still trained on his computer screen. “Because if he keeps hurting you like this, I'll go kick his ass.”

Myungjun chuckled sorrowfully. “Even though he's your best friend?”

“Even though he's my best friend,” Dongmin confirmed.

“E-Even though we fought? And e-even though you have every-every right to hate me?”

Dongmin was silent for a second as he swiveled in his chair. “Myungjun,” he said. “I might get so pissed at your attitude and your infatuation with the most _stupid_ man ever, but I can't hate you. Last night, you were right. I'm not going to coddle you.”

“But you just said you'd kick Bin's ass.”

“Well, that's not coddling you. That's kicking the ass of someone who rightly deserves it.”

Myungjun sniffed again and rubbed at his nose. “I missed you,” he whispered.

And then Dongmin held out his hands and smiled brightly. “I didn't miss you snoring,” he responded.

Myungjun couldn't help but cry again, and he collapsed into Dongmin's embrace.

He didn't want to be coddled anymore – but just this once, he'd allow himself to be hugged and to be held. Just once more before he figured out what to do next.

 

****************************

 

Bin was on the couch when Myungjun arrived home. His eyes were wide with shock the moment the front door was opened, and Myungjun regarded him anxiously as he closed the door behind him and moved to take off his shoes.

“You look as if you've seen a ghost,” he mentioned, and he was proud of himself for ensuring his voice didn't waver once.

“I...I thought you moved out,” Bin replied.

(Myungjun's heart leaped. Myungjun had missed his voice. Myungjun had missed his piercing gaze. Myungjun had missed _him_.)

“My name is still on the lease, and I'm still paying rent. I don't know why on earth you'd ever think of something so ridiculous.” Myungjun stepped further into the apartment and looked at Bin. He didn't appear _fantastic_. He had dark circles under his eyes and his fingers were fumbling with the remote. Part of Myungjun wondered if he would now be worried of the dynamics between them.

( _Good_ , Myungjun couldn't help but think. Let him worry. Let him feel the same sort of pain Myungjun himself had felt.)

He deposited his bag nearby, in the same spot he always used to. Bin's eyes followed him around the room as Myungjun fell back into routine – keys in the small, clay bowl they kept on the dining room table, his jacket hung up on their coat rack, and his favorite snack instantly snatched from the pantry.

“I'm glad to see you haven't eaten any of my squid,” Myungjun commented as he stepped back into the living room. Bin hadn't changed the channel from the commercials, as he normally would have done, far too preoccupied with staring at Myungjun.

Myungjun acted nonchalant. Myungjun acted as if he wasn't at all frustrated from the lack of communication, and so instead of asking anything of Bin, he sat down on the couch, keeping as far from his roommate as he possibly could, and gesturing over at the television. “What have you been watching?”

Bin finally broke eye contact and glanced at the commercial playing, shrugging his shoulders helplessly. “Just...stuff. Have you been with Dongmin this entire time?”

“Where else would I have gone?”

“With, um, with Minhyuk. Weren't you over there-”

“Sanha lives with him. The only spot for me at Minhyuk's place is on the couch.” Myungjun stuffed some squid in his mouth, hopeful that Bin couldn't detect the slight shake of his hand.

Bin narrowed his eyes. “Dongmin only has one bed, though.”

“And it's comfortable.”

“You slept with _Dongmin?_ ”

When Myungjun spared him a peek, Bin looked confused and slightly horrified. _Serves him right_ , Myungjun thought with a scoff. “Not even _remotely_ in that way, but so what if I did? You sleep around all the time. You slept with someone last night, and-”

“How did you know?”

“You were fucking wasted. I was home last night. My bags were even still in the living room, but you were too busy to notice that.” Myungjun felt angry, and he fussed, “What's the point in accusing me of sleeping with Dongmin, anyway? Why do you _care?_ You clearly have never cared before, and you _shouldn't_ care what _I_ do in my spare time while you're off with tons of other men.”

Bin stood from his seat and tossed the remote onto the coffee table. “I'm leaving.”

“Of course you are. Staying away for the night?”

Bin didn't answer him. Bin just angrily grabbed at his keys, but before he was able to walk out of the door, Myungjun couldn't help but talk some more, fueled by absolute frustration at the way he had been treated.

“You're going to come back drunk, aren't you? You're going to come home with some other worthless drunkard you find at the bar. You'll fuck him and send him on his merry way, all because you can't even bear the thought of starting a relationship. You're just a coward, Bin. You made out with me, and now you're running from it all. You're a _coward_.” Myungjun stood, too, gripping angrily at his bag of snack food. “You called my name last night.”

“Myungjun-”

“You fucking _did_. Your stupid _date_ was at _my_ dining room table, detailing it all out for me. You're sleeping with other men and pretending that they're all _me_.” He could see Bin's cheeks turn red; he didn't know if it was from anger or embarrassment.

He didn't care.

“Why can't we _talk?_ ” he begged, his tone now desperate. “Bin, I want to _talk_. I want to work this out, wha-whatever is here between us. I missed you – holy _shit_ , I missed you, Bin, and I love you, and I just don't know why you're-”

He couldn't get in the final sentence, because Bin had left. He had run away again, just as he always did, leaving Myungjun alone in a sea of self-pity and anguish.

He didn't want to love Bin anymore.

Bin hurt him. Bin hurt him _countless_ of times, over and over again. He had done it unwillingly beforehand, back when he never knew of Myungjun's love for him, but now that he _did_ know, now that he was aware of it all, he still continued to cause Myungjun pain.

He knew exactly what he was doing. He just didn't seem to care.

Myungjun slowly shuffled into his kitchen, depositing his squid crackers back into the pantry and then sitting down on the floor, blocking access to the fridge (not that anyone would be using it) and spreading his feet out to take up the small kitchen space (not that anyone needed to walk there). He longed to cry, and yet no tears could come.

(He believed he had cried them all out. He believed he was dehydrated. He believed he was becoming numb to it all.)

Part of him contemplated calling Dongmin, asking for his apartment space again, asking to be coddled and held and loved, but his pride took over.

This was _his_ apartment. Bin was _his_ roommate. Regardless of what occurred between the two of them, Myungjun wasn't going to be the one to leave his issues behind him.

If Bin wanted to ruin both of their lives, Myungjun wouldn't play a part in it. He would continue with his _own_ life, just as he had before.

Even if it did feel like he was dead inside.

 

****************************

 

He was on the couch when he heard the front door open. He supposed he had fallen asleep while watching stupid romance dramas (wishing he could be whisked away to drama-land, where all of the main characters were granted happy endings), and he definitely hadn't meant to. There had still been the off-chance of Bin coming back home, and if he was truly out getting drunk, then that would mean Bin would come home with a man.

And Myungjun, situated in the living room, would have front-row seats to getting his heart stomped on all over again.

He had half a mind to run right back into his room and not even spare a glance to his roommate, but then he heard Bin curse.

There was some stumbling, some fumbling about, and, suddenly, Bin fell into view, just in front of the door, his figure visible in the light of the television and dim streetlights shining into their windows.

He was _drunk_ , definitely, but he was alone.

Realizing this information made Myungjun relieved, but it didn't put him in any better of a mood, and he _still_ had half a mind to leave Bin alone, but then he heard a moan and a mumble and a soft, “Myungjun? Are you there?”

Damn his heart. Damn his love.

“Yeah,” he sighed, yawning as he stood from his seat. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, but winced; they were raw from so much crying.

(It was all Bin's fault. He wanted to hate Bin. But he couldn't.)

“Myungjun,” Bin giggled. Myungjun hated hearing it, because it reminded him of all the reasons he had fallen in love with Bin. “Myungjun, I'm drunk, I think.”

“Yeah.”

Bin was pushing himself up. At least he had taken off his shoes, because he stumbled into the living room without hesitation, holding at the wall for support and leaving Myungjun to close the door behind him.

“You didn't bring anyone home today,” Myungjun commented bitterly, and when he was sure the shoes were straightened and the door was locked, he turned back around. Bin had slid down to the floor, leaning up against the wall with his eyes closed and his breathing deep. “Where's your one-night stand, Bin? Left them behind at the bar? Were _they_ too drunk?”

Bin groaned and ran his fingers through his hair. “You're being loud,” he fussed.

“You should answer me if you want help finding your bedroom.”

“I can find it myself.”

“Then do it.”

But Bin wouldn't be able to. Myungjun knew Bin's tolerance to alcohol was _terrible_ , and he also knew that Bin had no sense of balance when he was like this. Even if he was sober enough to locate the direction of his room, alcohol threw him off completely, and so when he tried to stand, he fell over again. He groaned out, then held a hand up toward Myungjun. “Help me up,” he requested.

Dongmin would tell Myungjun to leave him there. Dongmin would remind Myungjun that he was too easily swayed by Bin, and that would cause him all the more pain in the long run.

 _Dongmin_ wasn't there, though, and so Myungjun threw caution to the wind, reaching down and helping to pull Bin up. Instantly, Bin swayed, and Myungjun wrapped an arm around the man's waist, holding onto him tightly.

His heart hammered in his chest. He hadn't touched Bin since they kissed. He hadn't allowed himself to get this _close_ to Bin since that time, and now here he was, slung over his shoulder and too drunk to properly remember it come tomorrow morning.

It was exhilarating, amazing, and yet it left Myungjun feeling nothing but dread.

Dread because this would end. Dread because Bin wouldn't recall it. Dread because it wasn't going to solve _anything_. It would just complicate matters all the more, and it would bring even more pain to Myungjun's heart.

He decided against his better judgment to drop Bin, however. It would make him cry later on, but for now, he wanted to help out his friend.

(And, for selfish reasons, he wanted to remain as close to Bin as possible before the inevitable heartbreak later on.)

“You're so heavy,” he complained, dragging Bin down the hallway.

“I work out,” Bin replied, his voice slurring ever so slightly. “An' I eat a _lot_.”

“Yeah.” Another one of the things Myungjun loved so much about Bin, and his heart did small flips in his chest.

(Why couldn't he hate Bin? Why couldn't he forget about Bin? Why was love so tricky and why did it stick so desperately to him?)

Bin complained about needing to puke, and so Myungjun moved backwards, into the bathroom, where he rested Bin gently on the tiled floor and held his head up above the toilet. He never did quite enjoy _this_ process of dealing with drunk people, but he supposed he ought to help. He couldn't leave Bin. He loved Bin far too much to make him deal with it all on his own, even if it _was_ his own fault he was in such a sorry state.

Bin didn't vomit. He gagged, coughed up saliva, but nothing else would come. “This is wholly unattractive,” Bin said, looking pitiful as he sat back and used the damp washcloth Myungjun handed him to wipe at his mouth.

“It's not like you have anyone to be attractive for,” Myungjun complained. He snatched the washcloth when it appeared that Bin wasn't going to do anything but continue to wipe at his lips, and he began to focus on cleaning up some of the sweat accumulating on the boy's neck and forehead. “You haven't brought anyone home.”

“ _You're_ here.”

Myungjun's hand faltered, and he squeezed the washcloth harshly, dripping water onto Bin's pants. Bin didn't seem to notice; his gaze was fixated up on Myungjun, who was still hovering over him, still confused by Bin's sudden words.

“Y-You've never wanted to look attractive for me before,” Myungjun murmured. “You're speaking nonsense.”

“I always want to look attractive for you.”

The confession was enough to send Myungjun's mind reeling, back to all those times Bin had barged into his room, demanding Myungjun's opinions on his outfits. Or those times he whined about his hair being ruined and flushed pink when Myungjun laughed and commented that it looked great. Or when he wore that stupid pale green sweater and beamed proudly at Myungjun, mentioning he _liked_ wearing Myungjun's clothes.

It was likely that, even while drunk, Bin was telling the truth, and that his infatuation stemmed from far back, back when _Myungjun_ was still falling in love. But, then again, Bin was drunk. He was drunk out of his mind, and Myungjun wasn't certain if he was able to trust Bin on anything at the moment.

(Oh, but how he longed to. How he wanted to accept all of Bin's words, all of his affection and adoration, and keep it within him. How he longed to cast out the rejection Bin had given him and only hold onto _this_.)

Myungjun was ready to pick Bin back up again, to toss him into bed, and to remember only those words, but then Bin spoke.

“I loved someone before you, Junnie.”

The nickname caused Myungjun to freeze, and the admittance of love was even more shocking than the name. Myungjun stared down at him before squatting to his level. “What?”

“It was another boy,” Bin said, and he closed his eyes, still looking quite ill. “In high school. I loved him and I loved him and I loved him. I asked him out. It was my first time asking a boy out. He agreed, and we went on a few dates. And I loved him.” Bin tried to sit up a bit straighter, but he seemed too dizzy, and so he accepted his slumped-over position. “But one day, Junnie, he wanted to have sex. He got real handsy. And I was scared. I was really young, and, and I had never dated a _boy_ before, and I didn't know what to do, so I told him I didn't _want_ to have sex. He broke up with me. He said I was worthless if I couldn't have sex.”

Myungjun frowned. He didn't want Bin to detail his previous romantic interests, but he was more angry, than anything, at this high school kid who hurt poor Bin's young heart.

(Myungjun was well-versed in heartbreaks. He knew how Bin must have felt.)

Bin continued though, not giving Myungjun a chance to respond. “And then I dated another boy in college. He was from China. He didn't speak much Korean. I had sex with _him_ and he was my first and I didn't like it.”

Bin fell silent then, and Myungjun blinked. “Is that the story of the second boy?” he asked. “Is that it?”

Bin shook his head. “No.” He ran a finger along the pattern of their bathroom floor, pressing his skin into the cold tiles. “I mean, yeah. Maybe. Sort of.”

“You're not making sense.”

“None of it made sense,” Bin whined, “because he broke up with me the next day. No reason for it, either, Junnie. He just said he didn't want to date me anymore. Said he didn't really love me. I-I lost my virginity to someone who didn't _love me_.” Bin bit harshly at his bottom lip, shaking his head once more. “And my mom had so many men, _so many men_ , that would come over. She never could decide. I never had even a step-father. They were just strangers that would leave. I don-don't think I'm destined for love. It's in my genes, Myungjun.”

Myungjun didn't really understand Bin's lack of determination. Perhaps they were too different; perhaps the situation was worse than even a drunkard man would let on. But it seemed as if Bin was still a coward, still afraid to love.

At least now Myungjun had somewhat of an explanation, a reason as to his fear of commitment.

“Love sucks sometimes,” Myungjun commented softly. He reached forward, hardly daring to breathe, and moved some hair from Bin's forehead. He was still so sweaty, and he stunk of booze, but Myungjun's breath was taken away when their eyes met.

Myungjun loved him so dearly, so desperately, and he longed for Bin to love him back forever and ever.

“But I think, and this opinion is completely biased, but I think you should try for love. Try to give in. I think it won't keep disappointing you.” Myungjun smiled, even though he still felt angry, even though he was still trying to _hate_ Bin. “I won't push you away.”

Bin sniffed. “Everyone promises that.”

“But you have no reason to think I'm a liar, do you?”

He knew Bin didn't. Myungjun hated to lie – Myungjun _couldn't_ lie. The truth always came out; sometimes drunk, mostly sober, it found a way out of his mouth. It was why Bin knew more about Myungjun than probably anyone else. They would talk, and something would spill.

(But Bin always giggled whenever Myungjun tried to backtrack, and then he would put a hand over his heart and whisper, “I won't tell a soul.”

And Myungjun would just keep falling in love.)

Bin whimpered and reached his hands up toward Myungjun once more. All of a sudden, it seemed their deep conversation was forgotten as Bin asked, “Can you help me go to bed, Junnie?”

They had been getting somewhere, even though Bin was drunk and even though Myungjun was exhausted. Myungjun had learned new things concerning Bin's past and his current behavior, and yet they couldn't solve a thing, not with Bin too drunk to even remember what he said come morning. It was only natural, then, to actually take him to bed and to deal with the aftermath later on.

So Myungjun hoisted Bin up once more, grunting at the heavy weight around his shoulders (Bin worked out, and Myungjun could feel it – he was regretful it was in _this_ context). “Stop _working out_ ,” he fussed, dragging Bin away from the bathroom. “It's ruining my back.”

“But I look good!” Bin responded.

He remained quiet the rest of the way, though, through all of Myungjun's grumblings. It took far longer to get to Bin's bedroom than it normally would have. Myungjun wasn't as strong as Bin, and Myungjun really hadn't been expecting to lug around a full-grown male so early on in the morning, when the sun still slept and the alarm clock was still hours from blaring out.

Finally (finally, _finally_ ) Myungjun made it to Bin's room. He moved, depositing Bin harshly onto the sheets and falling straight on top of him, his back pressed up against Bin's chest.

He was willing to stay in that position, at least long enough to catch his breath, but he suddenly felt Bin's arms snake around his middle and pull him closer into some sort of intimate, drunken embrace. _That's_ when Myungjun decided it was best to leave, and so he flailed a bit, loosening up Bin's grip, and then rolled over on the other side of the bed.

“Don't leave!” Bin whined just as Myungjun sat up. He grabbed Myungjun's sleeve and tugged at it. “Y-You can stay with me. Sleep with me. Share the same bed, at least. It won't be an issue.”

“I have my own bed right over there,” Myungjun argued. He tried to remove Bin's fingers from his shirt, but if sober Bin was strong, then drunk Bin was even more so. “Bin, let go.”

“No.”

“Bin, I'm serious-”

But he was tugged down, back onto the bed, laying on his side and staring up at the ceiling.

He hardly dared to breathe. He could feel Bin right beside him, close enough that Bin's nose was brushing against his neck, and Myungjun was reminded of their kiss all those nights ago, the passion and the desperation that fueled such an experience.

This was different. At least, this _felt_ different. Myungjun wasn't acting on desire, and Bin wasn't acting on regret. It was circumstance, it was confusion, and it was love.

Bin leaned forward, closing the distance between them, and he pressed a soft kiss to Myungjun's cheek.

The simple act caused Myungjun to turn his head, staring at Bin with wide eyes, alarmed at the sudden expression of adoration. “B-Bin,” he stammered.

Nothing else came. Nothing else _could_ come, for Bin kissed him again, this time on the lips.

It tasted like Bin, ever so slightly, but also of cheap booze and flavored soju. It wasn't like their first kiss, their previous kiss, whatsoever. It was gentle and careful, cautious and anxious. Myungjun's eyes closed, even though he told himself to pull back, and he returned the kiss. Bin's arms wrapped around him again and pulled him close before they both had to stop in order to gather air.

Myungjun's gaze was watery as he stared at Bin.

“Let's keep going,” Bin whispered, his fingers playing with the hem of Myungjun's shirt.

Myungjun wanted to. Myungjun _always_ wanted to, but he knew better. His mind was more clear than it had been the first time around, and so he was able to push Bin off of him and roll on his back to gaze right back up at the ceiling.

His heart pounded. He could barely hear anything but his own organ, working against all of the heartbreak that had occurred.

“Junnie,” Bin said, breath fanning out across Myungjun's neck. “Please? I love you.”

It hurt, and yet Myungjun felt high.

“You're drunk,” he murmured. “You won't remember it in the daytime.”

“I will.”

“You _won't_.” Myungjun glanced at him, taken back by the love shining in Bin's gaze. “Bin, you won't remember. You hardly ever do, not when you're _this_ drunk.”

Bin moved closer and grabbed at Myungjun's arm. “I want to.”

“ _I_ don't.”

Myungjun expected Bin to continue to argue. However, after a few seconds of contemplating Myungjun's response, he finally nodded his head. He didn't release Myungjun, but he seemed to understand the sentiment. “Is...is it because I won't remember?”

Myungjun swallowed thickly. “I want you to remember _all_ of this,” he whispered. “I want you to remember telling me you loved me. I want you to remember holding me. I want you to remember all of the kisses. You won't, and I'd rather not tack anything else onto the list of things you _won't_ remember.”

“What if I promise you I will?”

“But you _won't_. You can make all the promises you desire, but if you don't remember, it's all useless.”

Bin still didn't pull back, but he nodded again. “I'll make myself remember it all,” he promised, and he pulled Myungjun into his chest.

He was sweaty still, his shirt damp and sticky and gross, and yet Myungjun found himself enjoying every second of it. He liked Bin caring over him in such a manner, and so he couldn't help but to return the embrace, wrapping his arms around Bin's form and closing his eyes tightly, warding off any other tears.

“If I hold you like this,” Bin said, “I will remember.”

Myungjun didn't believe it, but he gave in too quickly. He refused to draw back. “You won't,” he muttered, his voice shaky.

“I will,” Bin promised. A kiss was planted on the top of Myungjun's head.

Myungjun cried.

“I'm going to remember.” Bin hummed lightly as his voice trailed off, ending with, “And I'll never hurt you again.”

Myungjun longed for that to be true, but all he could do now was wonder if he should draw back, if he should go to his own room, if he should forget it all happened.

Because when Bin woke up, perhaps it would be just another mistake.

And Myungjun couldn't handle that.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i post up lil teasers of this fic every so often on my tumblr, so hit me up [@vonseal](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com)! and to yell at me and give me ideas!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a bit longer than i expected it to be BUT ITS DONE. i like this chapter, too, so i hope all of you guys enjoy it!

Myungjun awoke to cold bedsheets and a sinking feeling of regret and loneliness stirring in his gut.

He blinked his eyes open blearily, squinting up at the ceiling and stretching his arms out above his head. His back hurt, and his neck hurt, and, more than anything, his heart especially hurt. He supposed if he could stretch, if he could open his body up some more, he might rid himself of all the feelings and emotions that had spiraled out of control last night, when he had outright refused to push Bin aside as he _should_ have, when he had indulged himself in Bin's drunken confessions.

He had _hope_ , for just a second, for a moment in time, that Bin would hold true to his word, that Bin would also wake up and remember what had all taken place.

The confession, and the intimacy, and the kisses-

Myungjun groaned and rolled over, stuffing his face further down into Bin's pillow and gripping onto it tightly.

He had always wanted to wake up in Bin's bed. Not like _this_ , though. Not with a heart full of longing and despair, and not with an empty spot right beside him. He wanted to wake up with _Bin_ , holding him, cherishing him, loving him. He wanted Bin's sleepy voice to tell him good morning, and he wanted Bin's strong arms to pull him all the closer into his chest. He wanted domestic bliss, he wanted uncontrollable happiness, he wanted all these things that Bin could not, would not, _refused to_ give him.

But could he really place all the blame onto Bin? He had _known_ Bin was adverse to relationships. The first day they met, he had made it rather clear, and yet Myungjun willingly allowed himself to fall.

He had become weak and fragile and so love struck that he hardly recognized himself anymore. He used to feel cheery and bright. He used to go through life with a smile across his face and a skip in his step. Now, though, it all seemed like a chore. He trudged onward, forcing himself to show some semblance of the person he was before.

Bin had taken his heart and had stomped it into fine pieces.

And Myungjun had allowed for it all to happen.

Now all he knew was a dull pain that rest in his heart, and the rough feel of dried tears that constantly stained his cheeks.

He rubbed at his eyes as he picked his head up from the pillow, sniffling pathetically and trying to regain some sort of composure in order to face the day ahead of him. He _longed_ to stay in bed and to cry, but he wondered how much that would really solve.

Though, from what it appeared, actually going out and _doing_ things to fix the situation had only worsened them. Perhaps forgoing all duties and sense of responsibilities was the right path to take.

Still, he had a business to run. As much as Bin ruined his heart, as much as Bin continued to string him along and then leave him behind, Myungjun could pay it no attention. He _had_ to be the strong one. He told Dongmin that he was going to continue forward no matter what happened in his life, no matter how terribly Bin treated him, and he was determined to go through with it all.

His body didn't want to. It ached and groaned as he pulled himself out of Bin's bed, and it protested as he stumbled down the hallway and to the bathroom.

He looked a mess. As much as he tried to wash his face, he couldn't rid himself of his heartbroken expression, of his red-rimmed eyes and his puffy cheeks. He had been looking awful for quite some time, too, and he wondered briefly if living with Bin's rejection would cause permanent damage to his youthful look.

Still, regardless of how he looked, he knew he had to be at the clinic in an hour. He had to work, pretend everything was perfectly fine, pretend he wasn't just unraveling at the seams with every passing day.

So he dressed, and he brushed his teeth, and he tried to do something to his unruly hair. He tried to put forth the appearance of someone who's life was together, someone who knew what was going on and knew who he loved and knew that _he_ was loved right back.

But he couldn't help thinking of Bin the entire time as he got ready. Bin _kissed_ him. Bin had lovingly, gently kissed him, and Myungjun could still feel the ghost of Bin's lips hovering over his skin. Bin had promised, as well, that he wouldn't forget come morning, and that things would be different.

Bin was gone, though. He left quietly, with no note or mention of what he was doing or where he was going. Normally finding the apartment empty so early in the day would cause a panic within Myungjun's heart, but all he could do now was make coffee and stare across the dinner table at the spot Bin always liked to claim for himself.

Bin should have been there. Even if to explain himself, even if to pretend things were okay, he should have _stayed_ , and then Myungjun could receive some form of closure for the happenings of last night. But Bin was a coward, as Dongmin had already pointed out, and much more preferred to run away from all of his troubles and worries.

Myungjun sighed, running his fingers through his hair and ruining whatever hairstyle he had already fixed for himself.

He couldn't stay here.

There was no way anyone could expect him to _stay_ by Bin's side after what had happened, after the promises Bin had broken. Myungjun couldn't face him again; even if Bin didn't remember, _Myungjun_ did, and Myungjun hated what he remembered. If he stuck around, he would be forced to see Bin throughout the day, forced to understand what Bin had been trying to tell him all along; nothing could _ever_ happen between them.

He had just come back, though. He had just tossed Dongmin's help aside and had returned to his apartment with Bin. How _could_ he leave? How could he run back to Dongmin?

How could he do anything, really? He had dedicated his time, his energy, his _love_ on Bin, and now-

Now he wasn't quite sure what else to do.

Myungjun stood from his spot and glanced at his phone. He was going to be late unless he left right then, but he couldn't find it in himself to exit the room. All he could think of was running away, leaving Bin far behind, and wallowing about in _what if he wanted me, what if he cared for me, what if we were together?_

But none of that would come to pass. Bin had made it exceedingly clear, and Myungjun didn't want to play anymore games. He didn't want to continue to hurt himself while chasing after someone who would never be with him. Bin had made it clear, even before they confessed their love for each other, and Myungjun had _tried_. He tried multiple times, but nothing was going to work. Bin would stay away from relationships, and Myungjun was left on the sidelines. If he stuck around, it would simply cause pain for the both of them.

He wondered if it was worth it to go to work. He wondered if he should just call out sick for the day, tell Dongmin that he was taking some time off for himself. Dongmin would surely know what that meant; Dongmin would surely know that it had turned worse.

However, taking time off would mean staying _here_. It would mean allowing the thought of Bin's rejection to continue to creep back into his mind. He wouldn't have anything to busy himself with throughout the day, and so all he would think of would be _Bin_.

Myungjun sighed and grabbed his bag, slinging it over his shoulder once before glancing behind him. Should he run away? Should he stay with Dongmin, instead, as he had been doing? It was just as painful – but, at least, if he stayed with Dongmin then he wouldn't have to deal with Bin getting drunk again, and either bringing home more men or _kissing_ him.

Myungjun decided to leave.

He hadn't really unpacked his bag. He had tossed it in his room to deal with later. It was a simple matter, then, of just grabbing that, sticking extra toiletries inside of the pockets, and taking one last look around at the place.

He wondered if he could get out of the lease somehow. The landlord was kind; perhaps if he explained the situation, pity would be taken upon him, and he would be able to leave it all for Bin. Bin could find a new roommate, someone who wouldn't fall in love with him, and then they could _really_ go their own separate ways.

Myungjun opened the door sullenly, eyes downcast, but he froze when he saw a pair of legs in front of him, just outside their apartment. His eyes traveled upwards, though he needn't look to see the face; those were _Bin's_ shoes.

“Bin,” he greeted, his voice wavering as he stared up into Bin's eyes.

The younger boy was panting, a sheen of sweat covering his forehead and his hair matted down. He wore his exercise clothing, though it was all a little wrinkled and his eyes were droopy and swollen. He stared right back at Myungjun, looking him up and down before gasping out, “Where are you going?”

Myungjun didn't like this. It sounded a little too casual for him. After everything that had happened between them, especially last night, Myungjun didn't _want_ for Bin to be treating him as he had before feelings had been confessed.

“I'm going to work,” Myungjun responded, holding up his work bag as if it was obvious. “Excuse me-”

“No, you have another bag.” Bin blocked his way, keeping Myungjun stuck in the doorway of their apartment. “Myungjun, where are you going _after_ work?”

When Myungjun didn't answer, Bin sighed, running his fingers through his messy hair. “I went for a run,” he murmured. “Cleared my head a little bit.”

“Really? I could have sworn you'd be hungover. You always are.” Myungjun felt snappish, but he also felt _justified_ in his anger. It was _Bin_ who was messing with his emotions, _Bin_ who was leading him on and cutting him off, and _Bin_ who had kissed him so tenderly just hours ago. Therefore, it was _Bin_ who deserved all of his frustrations.

Bin nodded. “I am,” he admitted. “Hungover, I mean. But that doesn't make me incapable of still running and clearing my thoughts.”

“Good,” Myungjun spat out. “I hope you've cleared _all_ of your thoughts. I-I hope you don't remember a single thing you did.” As he spoke, he tried to move, to push Bin out of his way. “I hope you live a wonderful life, forever i-in the dark-”

But Bin grabbed onto his wrist before he could head anywhere, holding it tightly in his strong grip. “Don't go, Myungjun,” he whispered. “Please.”

Myungjun felt his chin quiver, and with his free hand, he angrily wiped at his eyes. “Why should I stay?” he questioned. “After all you've done? Why the hell should I sit around and torment myself any longer?”

Bin seemed to hesitate for a second, and while he was more preoccupied with his thoughts, Myungjun took the chance to tear his arm away from him. He rubbed where Bin had been gripping at his wrist, facing him again, knowing he must look a mess with tears welling up in his eyes and lips bitten raw from anguish. Part of him hoped Bin would look past his current image. Part of him hoped Bin would feel guilt for all he had done. “I'm not coming back,” Myungjun stated. “I'm going to stay with Dongmin until I can find a new place. I'll talk to the landlord. You can find yourself a new roommate. Just-just pack my things and bring them to Dongmin's house so I can move out completely, but I can't come back here, not with you-”

“I love you.”

The words came so suddenly, so quickly, and Myungjun's eyes widened in shock.

Bin didn't look delirious or unsure. He seemed confident in what he said, and when he realized Myungjun was quiet, full attention placed onto him, he repeated himself. “I love you, Myungjun.”

Myungjun _knew_ that. Bin had told him, both drunk and sober, and he had held onto it in his heart. That's why it had hurt all the more knowing it _could_ work out, but Bin refused to make anything happen.

“Stop it,” Myungjun whispered, taking a step back. “B-Bin, leave me alone.”

“I didn't forget what happened last night.”

Myungjun's heart hammered in his chest and he averted his gaze. He wasn't quite sure what to say anymore. He wasn't sure what there was _to_ say. He felt short of breath and he wondered why Bin was saying all of this _now_ , why suddenly _now_ Bin seemed so sure of everything, while Myungjun was the one doubting it all.

“I woke up, and...and you were in my arms, and it was dark outside still and my head was killing me, but you looked...you looked so peaceful, Myungjun.” His voice was soft and gentle as he spoke, drawing Myungjun in with every word. “And it was the best thing I've ever woken up to, honestly. I realized, right then and there, I didn't ever want to let you go. I _want_ that, Myungjun. I want to wake up like that every morning. I don't want to get drunk and hurt you anymore, and I don't want you to keep running away from me. Myungjun, I _love-_ ”

“Do-Don't say it again!” Myungjun blurted out, and he backed away once more. He glanced up briefly, to the confusion on Bin's face, then stared down at his shoes. “You don't _know_ what you want, Bin,” he said. “Y-You switch between all these guys. I was...I was just another one of them, wasn't I? You m-might love me, but you...you _hurt_ me, Bin. You've done so much _shit_ to hurt me, and you do it _knowing_ you're hurting me, but you kept going.” Myungjun's throat felt constricted suddenly. “You kissed me,” he choked, “and you made me love you even more. I t-tossed away all my morals to kiss you back. You knew it, too, you knew I would _never_ do that, never go as far as we did, unless I had a clear answer as to what we _were_. And you still kept going, and when you stopped, y-you called it all a mistake.” Tears dripped down Myungjun's cheeks, and he made no move to wipe them away. “I-I don't know how you expect me to just accept you, Bin, a-after all of this! I just...do you _really_ think I'll forget it all and come to you _now_?”

Bin hadn't spoken. Bin didn't seem to _want_ to speak until Myungjun stopped talking, and even then, he hesitated, tongue darting out to lick at his lips, eyes averted from Myungjun's crying figure. “I don't know, Myungjun,” he admitted, his voice quiet. “I really don't know anything right now about what to do. I just... _want_ you. And not in the same way I had back-back then.” Back in Dongmin's kitchen, back when Bin was fueled with lust, back when Myungjun was fueled with desperation. “It's...different, now, Myungjun. It's more than that. I want you fully, completely, for the rest of my life. I want you to be _it_. I want...I want to settle, Myungjun, and I only want to settle for you.”

The words stung. Myungjun longed to accept them, to carry them to his grave, to allow himself to fall into Bin's arms and stay with him forever. However, even if he thought of trying, he was reminded of the way he had been treated just hours ago, when he had begged Bin to talk to him and Bin had turned his back. He was reminded of, before that, the lack of communication they had shared, Bin too easily accepting his departure. And, even further back, that _kiss_ in Dongmin's kitchen, the one Myungjun regretted with all of his heart, the one Bin had yet to really apologize for.

Myungjun couldn't allow himself pain again, and so he maneuvered past Bin's figure, shaking his head and stifling his sobs. “I-I'll be late for work,” he stammered. “I have to go to work.”

“Myungjun-”

“I won't be back. Not for a while.” Myungjun glanced back at Bin, at the longing and regret displayed so clearly, and he felt his heart hammer. “I don't know what to do anymore, Bin,” he whispered.

“You could love me.”

“I already do. And that's the issue.”

He loved Bin too much. He had loved Bin, he believed, rather early on. He had suffered in silence well enough on his own, but now that it was out in the open, Bin had changed. Their relationship had changed. They had both become miserable prisoners in their own home, simply because Myungjun loved Bin.

Bin didn't respond. Part of Myungjun wanted him to say something, but no reply ever came. Myungjun sighed and turned away from the man he wanted more than anything, set on the path before him, set on _forgetting_ Bin, even if it took years and years to do.

He didn't look back. Not physically, anyway.

But part of his heart stayed with Bin. Part of his heart would _always_ stay with Bin, and while Myungjun longed to feel complete and happy, he couldn't willingly piece himself back together. He wanted Bin to keep his heart, as trodden upon as it was, in hopes that one day, it would be Bin who would repair him.

 

****************************

 

He heard talking just outside of the doorway, concerned voices that were hushed, whispered. Dongmin was one of them, and from the sounds of it, Jinwoo was with him.

“He goes to work,” Dongmin was saying, “but that's all he does.”

“What do you mean by _that's all he does?_ ” Jinwoo questioned. He sounded less worried than Dongmin did.

“Just that. Work is all he does. He hardly talks, even at work. He busies himself with clients and animals. We close up, and we go home, and he just lays in bed until the next day, when he has to get up for work again.” Dongmin sighed, though less in exasperation and more in exhaustion. “It's been a week since he's come here, and there hasn't been any sort of change in his motions.”

It was quiet for a second, and then Jinwoo asked, “He doesn't talk about whatever it was that happened between him and Bin? I assume it's because of Bin, right?”

“I can't think of any other explanation.” Dongmin cleared his throat. “Bin's called, too. His number is blocked on Myungjun's phone, from the looks of it, but he's called me multiple times, begging to speak to Myungjun.”

“Has he?”

Dongmin didn't verbally respond, but based on Jinwoo's hum of understanding, Myungjun could only assume that Dongmin had nodded.

He didn't know Bin was calling Dongmin. The thought of having ignored his calls for a full week made him clench tightly at the bedsheets and bury his face further into the pillow. He wished Dongmin and Jinwoo would talk somewhere other than right outside the bedroom. He wished he didn't have to be reminded of just how far he had fallen, just how dreadful his life had now become.

“Has _Bin_ explained anything?”

“Not much,” Dongmin admitted. “He's told me that he loves Myungjun, though, more than anything, and he wants them to be together.”

Myungjun's heart clenched in his chest. No matter what he did, no matter where he went, he couldn't escape Bin's words. They replayed in his mind constantly, a mantra for sleep, a chant for when he woke. _I love you, I love you, I love you_. And, at some point, he was no longer sure as to who owned those words. He didn't know if it was Bin anymore. He didn't know if he said it in his mind as a response of some sorts, returning Bin's love, repeating Bin's desires to be together.

Part of him longed to return to Bin. He wanted Bin to piece him back together. Bin _could_ , couldn't he? If all they needed was their love to make things work, then Myungjun had no doubt in his mind that Bin could fix it all.

But he remembered everything Bin had done and said to him before. He remembered the treatment, the _teasing_ , Bin unknowingly delivered upon him. Going back, ignoring all that had happened, would cause Myungjun regret for the rest of his life. He would always hate returning to a man who had yet to fully admit what he had done wrong, who had yet to completely apologize for it all.

Dongmin had told him, just the other night, as Myungjun curled up into him, “He doesn't deserve you, Myungjun. _You_ don't deserve him.”

Myungjun had nodded his head, gripping onto Dongmin with anxiety and nerves abound, and he whispered, “I still want him.”

But Dongmin shook his head, chin brushing up against Myungjun's hair where the older boy lay nestled in his embrace. “You'll find someone else,” Dongmin promised, “someone _better_. I've known Bin for longer, Myungjun. He won't change like this. Not _that_ quickly. He's had people he's _liked_ before, people he thought he might love, but it was all fake, and he hurt some of them. He led them on. It was similar to what he's now doing to you.”

At some points, Myungjun supposed, it did feel quite like he was being led on. He felt like he was being pulled around, tugged as if he was some stubborn animal, and then, when he wondered if he would finally get a taste of love and affection, he was tossed aside. Worthless. Useless. Pointless. If Bin had done it to others before, and if Dongmin was aware of those events, then surely it was the same thing.

However, that last kiss they had shared replayed in Myungjun's mind. Even if Bin _had_ been drunk, even if he probably would never have done such a thing sober, it had been so gentle and cautious and _loving_. He felt Bin's love, tasted Bin's love. It wasn't like their first kiss at all. It was so different, so amazing, and Myungjun found himself constantly touching his lips as he imagined it.

It was hard to wrap his mind around the fact, then, that Bin could have faked it all. It was equally hard to wrap his mind around the fact that, if Bin _was_ faking it, he would fake it so _well_. He couldn't have been so desperate as to continuously call Dongmin's number when he learned Myungjun had blocked him. He couldn't have been so desperate as to _beg_ Dongmin to hand the phone to Myungjun. It didn't make sense, if it was all for _leading him on_ , to have Bin work so hard at getting Myungjun's attention. He was handsome and attractive, and had a plethora of willing men lingering in his usual bar spaces. Why would he choose someone so unattainable?

The answer was the mantra, the chant, in Myungjun's mind, the blurted confession that Bin had given him just a week prior.

 _I love you_.

And that was all Myungjun had to grasp onto to realize that he could, possibly, make everything work out in the end. If Bin was so convinced they would go well together, if Bin was so willing to allow himself to give in to his fear of commitment, than Myungjun _had_ to fix it, too. He had to get up, and he had to find Bin.

But, even as he tried to convince himself of that, he kept remembering the pain and the tears and the loneliness he had felt because of Bin's inability to act sooner, and he wondered if it would be worth it to face him again.

He no longer knew what it was he needed to do, and misery overtook him.

Eight days into his stay, he finally spoke.

It was the weekend, and he was curled up in Dongmin's bed, as per the norm. He had yet to leave the apartment, save for work, and while he was home, he hardly ate or moved or talked. He found sleeping was preferable to facing his issues – but sleep only brought about more love and more _fear_ , and he finally thought he might explode if he didn't speak.

The door opened, someone moving quietly, and Myungjun said, voice quiet, “I love him.”

The intruder stood still, and so Myungjun repeated himself, slightly louder. “I love Bin.”

“Do-Do you want me to go get Dongmin?”

It was Jinwoo, his voice rough and gravelly, and, in previous weeks, perhaps Myungjun would have been embarrassed to be seen in such a state by someone he didn't know quite well. However, now he didn't care. He simply rolled over, staring at a sheepish smile on Jinwoo's face. “Why are you here?” Myungjun asked.

“Dongmin's getting groceries,” Jinwoo replied, a non-answer.

Myungjun bit at his bottom lip. He vaguely recalled Dongmin calling out something to him, and maybe the front door _had_ opened and shut, and maybe it _was_ a little quiet in here for a weekend afternoon. He should have expected Dongmin to be out and about getting his chores completed.

Still, it didn't explain Jinwoo's appearance, and so Myungjun stared up at him. “Why are you here?” he repeated himself.

Jinwoo cleared his throat and glanced over at the closet door. “Uh, Dongmin said – he said, um, I could grab some-some clothes he has in here.”

Myungjun blinked. “What for? You're a lot shorter than he is.”

“Not _that_ much shorter,” Jinwoo replied. He crossed his arms over his chest, the tip of his nose turning a delightful color of red. “He told me, um, he's just going to bring his groceries to my place. He says I can stop by here and pick up some clothes and meet him back at my apartment.”

“Why do you need _clothes?_ ” The root of the question still had yet to be answered; though, even as Myungjun asked, realization sparked in his mind.

(It didn't help that Jinwoo was fiddling with his thumbs and stammering out something about possible rain, even though the forecast was bright and clear, and maybe muddy surroundings and a new change of clothes.)

“Oh,” Myungjun stated.

Jinwoo smiled nervously, and the blush had spread to the rest of his face as he looked over at Myungjun again. “Since, uh, since he's spending the night, I needed something for him _after_...since, you know, like you said, he's a lot taller than me and so I don't think any of my clothes will actually fit him properly. Though, it would be cute if he wore _my_ clothes. That's what boyfriends do, isn't it?”

Myungjun glared at him. “I wouldn't know,” he spat bitterly.

“Oh, come off it. Dongmin's told me that you've had boyfriends before.”

“Hardly any.” Myungjun rolled over, laying on his stomach and allowing his face to rest in Dongmin's pillow. He could suffocate and be fine, he decided, but it was difficult to focus on death when Jinwoo just kept talking.

“More than either Dongmin or myself, probably combined.”

“It was, like, three relationships.”

“Then my point still stands.” Jinwoo was going through the closet now, rifling through Dongmin's set of clothes. He noted some towards the end, mentioning, “These are your clothes, right? They're a smaller size than what Dongmin wears.”

Myungjun sighed and nodded his head, though he was certain that Jinwoo couldn't see.

Jinwoo continued to make small remarks on the different clothes Dongmin owned. He mentioned how cute something was, or else he would sigh and mutter about Dongmin's weird taste in fashion. Myungjun had mostly tuned him out until he heard Jinwoo happily exclaim, “I've never seen him wear _this_ one! He'd look so cute! Don't you think, Myungjun?”

In order to appease Jinwoo (and hopefully get him out of the apartment quicker), Myungjun glanced over briefly and gave a lazy thumbs-up. Just as he looked away, though, recognition flashed through his mind, and he had to give the sweater another look.

It was pale green and pretty and not _his_ size at all.

But it was Bin's size.

“What the fuck-” he breathed, scrambling out of bed and rushing over to the closet. He snatched the sweater away from Jinwoo, who watched him with a curious gaze. “This-this shouldn't be here,” Myungjun stammered, running a hand lightly over the soft fabric.

Jinwoo raised his eyebrows and glanced down at the sweater before returning to staring back at Myungjun. “Is...is it yours?” he asked.

Myungjun shook his head. He was biting at his lips again, a nasty habit he knew he needed to curb, but all he could think of at that moment was the green sweater. By all accounts, he should _not_ have it, and he could come up with no explanation as to why it was suddenly in Dongmin's closet. “I-I-I gave it to Bin when we first became roommates,” he murmured. “It's been in his closet ever since. I swear, I didn't take it. I didn't steal it. I-I wouldn't... _do_ that, but why the hell is it _here?_ ”

Jinwoo was quiet for a second before snapping his fingers. “Dongmin mentioned to me that Bin came by and dropped something off.”

Myungjun felt the breath leave his body for an instant, felt as if he was both floating and falling at the same time. He clenched the sweater in his hands and blinked rapidly at Jinwoo. “He-He-He _what?_ He came...came by?”

Jinwoo seemed apologetic, and he shrugged his shoulders uselessly. “I...assumed Dongmin had told you, and you knew, but...I didn't know until recently. Dongmin, he, uh, he mentioned it, and-and I guess this is what it was that Bin dropped off.”

If Bin's calls weren't getting through, he understood why he might come over instead, but he couldn't grasp what the _sweater_ would mean. Bin hardly wore that sweater; he donned it maybe twice to appease Myungjun (and Myungjun definitely took photos of Bin grinning cheekily while pointing to the sweater, and he stored them safely on his phone), but otherwise, it remained hanging up in his closet, usually forgotten in order to wear something more _his style_. Myungjun never minded, because Bin would wear it if Myungjun ever asked him to, but-

“Why did he give it to Dongmin?” he questioned. He was thinking out loud, not expecting any sort of answer, and yet Jinwoo attempted to give one anyway.

“Maybe he wanted you to have it.” Jinwoo went back to searching through Dongmin's closet, finally giving up and choosing a plain, white sweater and a pair of nice jeans. “Maybe it has some sort of meaning between the two of you. After all-” Jinwoo looked at Myungjun and held a finger up to his lips. “You can't tell Dongmin that I'm telling you any of this, alright?”

Myungjun nodded his head, though he was certain he already knew.

“Bin's been calling a lot. He can't get through to you, so he's calling Dongmin.”

“I know,” Myungjun murmured. He noticed Jinwoo's eyes widen in shock, so he scoffed, “you and Dongmin aren't exactly _quiet_ , and, for some reason, you choose to discuss these things right outside of my bedroom door.”

“Oh.”

Myungjun held the sweater close to his chest, fingers gripping at the soft fabric. Jinwoo had fallen silent, now looking rather unsure of what else to say. He probably wanted to leave, wanted to get started his evening with Dongmin, but he was too nice, too polite, to just take his leave right after such an admission.

And Myungjun still needed him. “Do you know why Dongmin is acting like this? Why he's...stopping Bin from talking to me? Why he's protecting me so much?” He could feel Jinwoo's gaze on him, but he didn't look up from the sweater. “He says it's because he's worried Bin would just be using me. He says he knows Bin the best, maybe better than I do, and I think he's trying to protect me, but _why?_ Bin sounds...he sounds, um, genuine.” Myungjun cleared his throat. “I think I want to forgive him, if he's asking for forgiveness. I think I want to give it all another chance.”

“Have you talked to Dongmin about it?”

Myungjun shook his head, finally looking up. Jinwoo was smiling gently, and he nudged Myungjun's shoulder, making the older boy stumble slightly. “Dongmin cares about you as a friend. He said that you've always been there for him, and so he's willing to stand by you.”

“I didn't _ask_ him to.”

“Friends do these types of things without permission. Especially Dongmin. You know, he's a bit of a worrywart sometimes, and he told me it's bizarre to see you so down. You're the one always lifting _him_ up, and he wants to do the same thing.” Jinwoo moved to close the closet doors. He sighed lightly, adding on, “I don't think he trusts Bin.”

Myungjun pursed his lip. “I think _I_ do,” he muttered, “and if I trust him, maybe Dongmin should.”

“You can tell that to him.”

“I can't, because he's staying with you tonight.” Myungjun shuffled back over to the bed, sweater still held tightly in his hands, and he collapsed on top of the sheets, staring up at the ceiling as his mind tried to uncover the meaning behind the sweater suddenly being handed over. “Did...Bin say anything when he dropped off the sweater? Do you know?”

“Sorry,” he heard Jinwoo respond, “but Dongmin didn't tell me whether or not he did.” There was silence again, and, again, Jinwoo seemed too anxious about the situation to readily leave Myungjun all by his lonesome. “I can ask Dongmin, though. Or I can send him home early tomorrow morning so that way you two can talk about it.”

Myungjun buried his face in Dongmin's pillow again, his reply muffled, “I don't care what you do. I'll talk to him regardless of what time he comes home.”

“Right.” Jinwoo hesitated, clearing his throat, and then offered, “I'm sorry all this had to happen to you, Myungjun. You definitely don't deserve to be hurt.”

He left after that, and Myungjun pondered his words. Dongmin had constantly told him that he didn't deserve _Bin._ Bin was what Dongmin saw as the block in Myungjun's happiness, the thing that caused his heart to weep, the pain in his life.

Jinwoo seemed to see it differently. It was, _you don't deserve to be hurt_. There was no explanation as to what caused the hurt and the pain in Jinwoo's words. It was just there. Jinwoo had no clear definition, and, to Myungjun, that seemed as if he wasn't ready to put all the blame fully onto Bin, as Dongmin had.

Maybe Dongmin knew Bin better than any of them. Maybe Dongmin was aware of how Bin treated people in the past.

But Myungjun loved him no matter what, and at the moment, he felt as if being with Bin could be true happiness.

He waited for a few more minutes, ensuring Jinwoo wouldn't suddenly come back into the apartment, and then he fumbled over for his phone, plugged into an outlet and settled up on Dongmin's bedside stand. He had Bin's number memorized, always had, and he made quick work of unblocking it.

There were quite a few messages from Bin, ranging in length. Most of them explained his behavior, his fear of commitment, his knowledge that what he had done was all wrong.

One message was sent around two that morning, when Myungjun had been struggling to sleep, curled in Dongmin's side, tormenting over Bin's blocked number.

 _I love you_ , it read, _and I always will love you. Please forgive me._

Myungjun bit at his lip. He could feel portions of it cracking, and he knew it would bleed if he didn't care for it and find his chapstick somewhere underneath the covers, but that wasn't what was important at the moment.

He sent a reply to Bin's text, fingers slowly pecking at the keyboard until he was satisfied enough with the message.

_do you mean it._

It didn't take very long at all for Bin to respond.

_Yes._

Myungjun stared at the one, single message until his phone screen went dark. Even then, he held the device in his hands, eyes refusing to close, barely blinking. The one word was ingrained in his mind, held tightly to his heart, and he rolled over again, still keeping the phone at a distance.

The sweater lay under him, somewhat forgotten, and Myungjun found his cheeks turning up and his lips widening.

For the first time in what seemed like ages, he was smiling.

Because Bin loved him, and Bin was willing to try, and Myungjun decided that it wasn't _Bin_ that was an obstacle to his happiness, because Bin _was_ his happiness.

 

****************************

 

Dongmin returned home the next afternoon, and he looked baffled when Myungjun greeted him with a plate of food and a warm smile. “How was your date?” Myungjun asked, gesturing over to Dongmin's usual spot at his dining room table.

Dongmin cocked his head. “What?”

“Your date with Jinwoo. Or, if you want to be more upfront about it, how was the sex?”

He had expected the confusion over his sudden change in attitude, and he had also expected the red blush that crept up Dongmin's neck. “Th-The _what?_ Why the hell-”

“Oh, Jinwoo came by and took some clothes for you to change into. The ones you're wearing right now,” Myungjun pointed out, then patted Dongmin's seat. “Here, sit down and tell me _all_ about it. Who topped? Who was loudest? Who came-”

“Jesus _christ_.” Dongmin ran his fingers through his hair, looking horribly embarrassed. “Stop going on about it! It's none of your business, first off, and, second off, what are you _doing?_ ”

Myungjun smiled brightly again, and he decided that if Dongmin wasn't going to sit, he might as well. He plopped down in one of the chairs and began to pile food on his plate. “I cooked,” he said, “as a meal of gratitude. Because I've been living here for a little while, and I don't think I've shown my appreciation. This is my way of showing it.”

Dongmin still stood in his spot, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. “You've been moping around my apartment forever,” he commented. “When I left yesterday, you still hadn't said a word to me. What's with this sudden change? What's going on?”

Myungjun began to chew on some of the kimchi he had put together and he shrugged his shoulders. “Nothing, really,” he murmured. “I helped Jinwoo choose an outfit for you – he talks a lot when he's feeling awkward – and something sparked a sort of epiphany.”

“An epiphany?” Dongmin repeated.

Myungjun nodded his head, then looked upon his friend with wide, innocent eyes. “A pale green sweater.”

Dongmin was too simple to figure out. Myungjun wasn't surprised when Dongmin, instead of looking confused, looked guilty instead, his eyes averting from Myungjun's stare and his feet shuffling on the ground. “It...I was going to tell you-”

“I thought Jinwoo would have told you, but I guess he probably lost his train of thought the moment he saw your butt.”

“Myungjun!”

“Jinwoo found it.” Myungjun slurped at some of his noodles, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. “I was...shocked, at first. And I was mad. I've been mad all night, because I would have thought this is something you would tell me. I knew about the phone calls – after all, I blocked my own phone to stop it, and you and Jinwoo are loud whenever you try to talk in secret. I _knew_ all of that was going on, but I didn't know that Bin had actually come by to give an apology. I can't figure out why it was the _sweater_ he handed to you, but I assume it was for me.” He set his chopsticks down and propped his elbows up on the table, resting his chin into the palm of his hands. “Wasn't it?”

Dongmin sighed and finally took his place at the table, though he made no effort to touch any of the food. “I was going to tell you,” he murmured, “when you weren't hurting so much. When you were ready to hear it.”

“You shouldn't make that decision. You should tell me.” Myungjun bit at the inside of his cheek. “After all, it _concerns_ me, Dongmin, and if Bin is coming over here-”

“I've been worried!” Dongmin defended himself, “because you've acted like a dead man for the past week or so! All I knew, all I heard, was that _Bin_ did this to you. And I know he's hurt you multiple times, because you kept coming back to me, and if I let him come in and talk to you again, I was so sure he'd do it again!”

The sentiment was sweet, and it dissipated some of Myungjun's anger with the situation. Dongmin _was_ a worrywart, as Jinwoo had pointed out, and it was clear that he was looking out for his friend's best interests. He only knew, too, what Myungjun had allowed for him to know. He probably wasn't aware of the entire story, and he acted as best he could with the information given.

“I don't blame you,” Myungjun mumbled, playing with his food. “I just...I was upset, at first. But if Jinwoo had acted as Bin had, I probably wouldn't allow him near you, either.”

Dongmin nodded his head before clearing his throat and saying, “He came by a few days ago. I told Jinwoo about it later – he didn't know much, so please don't blame him for keeping it secret. Bin was adamant that he had to see you. Kept telling me how important it was. Finally told me how much he loved you. He said it over and over again, but...I told him just how much he hurt you. I told him I had never seen you like this before, refusing to get up and make something of yourself.” Dongmin picked up the chopsticks by his place, though he didn't use them just yet. “He looked...very upset. Very guilty. I think I've been slowly realizing that he feels bad about everything he's done.”

Myungjun pursed his lips and removed his elbows from the table. “And the sweater?” he asked.

Dongmin offered him a small smile. “He said it's something he cherishes because you gave it to him.”

If hearts could burst, Myungjun was certain that his just had. He felt warmth fill his chest, expanding slowly like a balloon, making him ball his hands into fists and concentrate hard on hiding a smile from his face. Dongmin continued, “And he said he wanted you to hold onto it for him, until you were ready to see him again and return it. Good or bad, he said, he needed for you to bring the sweater back to him whenever you felt up to the task.”

It was a wave of love that washed over Myungjun suddenly, threatening to knock him over and to drown him in its depth. He felt out of breath, allowing the wave to carry him away, and his voice quivered as he spoke. “Dongmin?”

Dongmin didn't answer, but he could feel the man's eyes trained on him.

“I talked to him on the phone. Texted him.” He pulled the cell phone from his pocket and passed it over to Dongmin, allowing him to look upon the screenshot of their conversation last night. It was chaste, hardly worth anything to cry over, and yet Myungjun was overwhelmed with various emotions, and he couldn't help the tears that began to roll down his cheeks.

Dongmin glanced up again. “You want to return the sweater?” he asked softly.

Myungjun nodded his head, sobbing out, “I love him, Dongmin, so much, and I don't think I can stand being away from him for another second!”

He sniffled loudly; it was gross, maybe pathetic, but Dongmin seemed to smile because of it. “Maybe,” he murmured, “it isn't _Bin_ that's the problem. Maybe it's just communication and inability to interact properly. Maybe Bin is fixing his own problem. Maybe _I'm_ the problem-”

“Dongmin, just tell me it's okay to run back to Binnie.”

Dongmin sighed, his eyes passing over Myungjun's face, staring at his red cheeks and his watery gaze and his runny nose. And, finally, he nodded his head. “It's okay,” he said, “I think you two are done making stupid mistakes.”

Myungjun released a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding, released all the tears welled up inside of him from the recent events, and, when Dongmin pulled him into a tight embrace, he allowed himself to cry.

He loved Bin, and he'd do anything to stay by his side.

 

****************************

 

He had been so certain at Dongmin's place that he needed to return to Bin's side. He had been steadfast and determined, if not a bit weepy, to pack his things and bid Dongmin farewell. But now, standing right outside the front door of his apartment, he couldn't help the sudden onslaught of nerves terrorizing his poor heart, making him rethink the entire situation.

If he stepped through that door, then it would be final. He'd get together with Bin, and he'd be _happy_. Or, so he assumed, based on how Bin had been acting.

But what if all of Dongmin's previous warnings had been correct? What if Bin was just going to use him? Bin would do so unknowingly, simply because he wasn't malicious in any way, but what if they started a relationship only to have Bin hurt him later on because of his fickleness, his inability to commit, his complete lack of communication. There were so many things that could go wrong, so many ways Myungjun could have his heart broken all over again, and he wasn't sure if he could go through with it.

But his only other option was to live in misery for the rest of his life, always wondering what _would_ have happened. Wouldn't it be better for him to take the plunge, then, and accept whatever life threw his way? If Bin played with his heart, Myungjun would leave for good. And if Bin cherished him dearly...

Myungjun took a deep breath and stopped fiddling with his keys, opening the door slowly and peeking inside.

The lights were all off, and there was no sign of Bin anywhere. Myungjun was reminded of all those days ago, entering his empty apartment only to experience the crushing blow of pain a few hours into the night. He prayed to whomever was listening that this wasn't a repeat of _that_ particular situation.

As he took off his shoes and set down his bag, he noticed a bright splash of color from the corner of his vision, and he glanced up quickly.

On his dining room table, right at _his_ spot, lay a sticky note. He could recognize Bin's messy handwriting, even from his position across the room, and he rushed over to read it.

 _Myungjunnie_ , it said, and Myungjun lost his breath, mind narrowing in on those few characters. But there was more to the note, and so, saving the nickname in his heart, he continued to read, _I don't know if you'll come home. If you do and you read this note, it means I'm at the studio. I have a children's class to teach. I hope you're home. I hope you read this note. I'll be there soon._

It was so dear, so sweet, and Myungjun couldn't help but grin stupidly as he stared down at it. He would wait for Bin, then. He would stick the note into his dresser drawer and pick it up whenever he felt like remembering Bin's kindness.

He turned around, intent on changing into something more comfortable and giving himself some time to relax before Bin arrived, but he noticed more color, closer to the kitchen, resting on the edge of the trashcan. Curiosity took a hold of him, and he peeked down inside, exhaling suddenly when he realized there were more sticky notes.

At least ten of them, all piled up together, lay at the very top of the rest of the trash. Some were crumbled, some had stains, but Myungjun grabbed them and lay them out on the floor, staring down at the little notices Bin had put together.

 _I hope you're home_ , another one repeated, _and if you are, please wait! I'm out at the store._

 _I'm getting my hair cut_ , the fourth one said, _I hope you'll find me handsome if you're home when I come back_.

_Junnie, I'm going to bed. I know you won't be home. It's one in the morning. I hope you're sleeping well at Dongmin's. I miss you._

Similar messages littered his floor, and Myungjun, sitting on the kitchen tiles, felt tears well up in his eyes.

While he had been wallowing about in misery, so had, apparently, Bin. Bin had _tried_ to communicate, tried to make up for everything he had done, and had been lonely all the while. Myungjun at least had Dongmin by his side; Bin had no one. And not only was Bin alone through the ordeal, he was disliked and pushed aside by people he thought were friends.

He screwed up, but anyone who makes a mistake deserves a chance for forgiveness.

Myungjun didn't even bother cleaning up after himself. With the sticky notes still scattered across the floor, he scurried up from his position, grabbed his keys and stuffed his shoes right back on. He needn't hang around his house any longer waiting for Bin to come back to him.

If he was going to try for a relationship, he would have to meet Bin halfway.

 

****************************

 

Halfway, really, meant rushing all the way down to Bin's dance studio. He was out of breath by the time he arrived, panting to the lady at the front desk that he desperately needed to see Bin.

“I'm...sorry,” the receptionist responded, taking in Myungjun's disarray and general state of exhaustion. “He's in a class right now. I don't think he should be bothered-”

“It's important,” Myungjun responded, running his fingers through sweaty clumps of hair. “I'm his roommate, and-”

“He's in charge of twelve children at the moment, and unless it's an _emergency_ , I cannot pull him out.”

She was stern in her words, and Myungjun almost cursed. He caught himself, however, deciding it would be better to show a polite side of himself. “Can I, uh, can I at least sit in on the practice?” he asked. “You can ask Bin, or Minhyuk – both of them know me, I promise. I won't cause trouble, I just...I need to be near him.”

Unfortunately, she refused to even allow that much, and Myungjun gave up. He slumped over into a plush armchair in the lobby, ignoring her repetitive glances cast his way, worry and suspicion visible in her gaze. He wasn't quite certain how long Bin's class would take, but he just wanted it to hurry. He wanted to see Bin, to explain things, to hopefully apologize, and to forgive.

He must have dozed off at some point, because his name was being called after what felt like a mere few seconds. “Myungjun? Myungjun, wake up!”

He jerked upright in his seat, blinking rapidly in order to land his focus right on Bin.

Bin looked shocked. Beautiful, but shocked. He stood in front of a small crowd of children, four of them clinging to his arms, but he paid them no mind. All of his attention seemed directed solely at Myungjun, who faltered slightly under Bin's intense stare.

“H-Hi,” Myungjun breathed out.

“What are you doing here?” Bin asked. “Dongmin said you wouldn't see me. You-”

Myungjun stretched his arms out in front of him and tried to get the crick out of his neck. “That was, um, that was him talking. He worries, you know. I hadn't known you were even coming over to his place.” He stood, and Bin took a step back to allow him some room. The children watched the proceedings with inquisitive, innocent expressions, and Myungjun waved awkwardly to them. “I saw your note.”

“Huh?” Bin cocked his head, and in that moment, Myungjun was once again swept underneath the crashing waves of love.

“Your note. The note you left...left on the table.” Myungjun cleared his throat and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “All of them, actually. All of the notes. They were...you tossed them, but I saw them, and...” He took a deep breath. “I'm sorry for not-”

But Bin was shaking his head, shushing Myungjun before he got a chance to finish explaining himself. “You needn't apologize,” he murmured. “It was all my fault in the first place. I...I caused it. I can't-” He gestured down to the children surrounding him. “I can't discuss it right now, not near-”

“I understand.” Myungjun laughed, still nervous and he knew he sounded nervous. He couldn't really meet Bin's gaze, so he stared down at the floor instead. “Is class over?”

“Yeah. Waiting for their parents.”

Silence enveloped them, until a child broke the quiet by tugging at Bin's shirt. “Who's that?” the young boy whispered.

Bin finally looked down, breaking eye contact with Myungjun, and smiled brightly at the child. “He's someone very important to me,” he responded, “and I hope he'll start coming around more often.”

Myungjun couldn't help but grin, hiding his mouth behind his hands as he greeted all of the kids and told them his name. They asked him questions about Bin, about his likes and dislikes, wondering if there were any embarrassing stories, wondering how they knew each other, exactly, and Myungjun did his best to answer it all with the happiness still bubbling in his heart.

 _Important_ , he thought, grasping onto that word. He was important to Bin. Bin was _admitting_ it, freely, with no sign of humiliation or embarrassment. He was _important_ , and Bin wasn't taking that word back. Bin wasn't claiming it was a mistake.

Bin found him important.

Parents filtered in, picking up their children, until Myungjun and Bin were left alone. The receptionist continued to type away, glancing up at the two men every so often, but Bin wasn't at all deterred. “Want to come with me to grab my things?” he asked, eyes sparkling with hope.

Myungjun couldn't very well deny him. He nodded eagerly, then trailed after Bin right back to the practice room.

He had been there once, maybe twice, before. The large mirrors on the wall made him wince when he noticed how much of a wreck he truly was – he hadn't been eating or sleeping very well. His cheeks were sunken and his eyes were droopy, dark circles covering the bottoms of them. His skin had lost its tan glow, and his hair was in a chaotic state of mess.

Bin didn't look much better, Myungjun noticed as he peeked at him through the mirror. He seemed tired, and not just from teaching all those kids. He looked mentally worn out, and though he still held onto his smile, Myungjun could spot the worry lines that had formed on his forehead and the way he sagged over when he reached to grab his backpack.

“I don't think these past few weeks have been very kind to either of us,” Myungjun commented.

Bin straightened up again, glancing over at Myungjun's reflection. “Not kind to me,” he retorted, “but you still look as gorgeous as ever.”

Myungjun huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “You can't win me back with flattery, or with sticky notes, or with your sweater.” When he noticed Bin look amused, he glared back at him in the mirror. “I'm serious, Bin. We've been through a lot of shit, and I don't...I don't know. It's hard to just go through with this as if nothing happened.”

But Bin was shaking his head, even before Myungjun finished talking. “I don't want to do that. I promise. I meant it, though, about you looking pretty.” He sighed and tore his gaze from the mirror to look right at _Myungjun_ , solely at him, not with any barriers this time. “I think we need to have a talk about everything. Right now.”

“Right now?” Myungjun looked around at the empty practice room. “Here?”

Bin plopped onto the ground, taking off his backpack and depositing it beside him. “It'll make the walk home less awkward,” he promised.

“It might stretch on for a while. I think we both have a lot to say.”

“And I have the keys. I can lock up whenever we're done.” He patted the spot in front of him before leaning up against the mirror. “Let's talk.”

There wasn't much of an issue, really, discussing things with Bin in the practice room. He was right, after all; the sooner they got everything out in the open, the easier it would be to restart their relationship under a much better note. So he sat, playing with the strings that hung down from his hoodie and smacking his lips together. “Where do we start?” he asked.

“The beginning.”

“And what's the beginning?”

“When I first saw you,” Bin admitted, “and thought you were the most attractive man ever.”

Myungjun scrunched his nose up and hugged himself tightly, rolling his eyes with a groan. “Be honest, Bin. What's the beginning.”

But Bin was steadfast, and he replied, “I _am_ being honest. Dongmin and Minhyuk really downplayed how handsome you were.”

“Those bastards.”

“I know.” Bin nodded in enthusiasm. “They're wrong, though. You just _shone_ , the moment I saw you, and it slowly developed from just feeling like you were attractive to wondering if I could spend the rest of my life by your side.”

Myungjun stuffed one of the strings from his hoodie into his mouth, chewing on it anxiously. “Why did you hold back?” he asked around it.

Bin giggled and reached over to pull the string away from Myungjun, letting it fall back against the older boy's chest. “I told you I was scared of commitment. Always have been. My mom was never committed to anything at all. Dongmin was, once or twice, and it failed on him – his previous relationships, that little stint where he began to study for nursing instead of veterinary, the fish he promised he'd keep alive at his desk-”

“The bastard,” Myungjun repeated, and Bin giggled again. “Forgot to feed those damn fish. You know how it looks when a vet's receptionist can't even keep his _fish_ alive?”

“I fussed at him for it, don't fret.”

“That makes two of us.”

Bin was grinning, but he began to talk again and the smile wavered. “I was happy when you asked me to move in with you, to be roommates. I didn't know you liked me in the same way I liked you, and so I just decided I could watch you from afar. Or, I mean, up close, but secretly. Quietly. I'd like you, but I would never act upon it. I found pleasure in other men, and I kept you close. We were just friends, but I liked to pretend we were _more_. I liked bringing you lunch, because it felt so _boyfriend_ , if you understand what I mean, and I liked cuddling with you watching movies, because it was something I'd never actually _get_ if we didn't have our friend label.” He danced his fingers across his knee, pursing his lips. “Then you confessed. We both liked each other. I realized, with that out in the open, I wanted you even more. I didn't want any other guy but _you_. The guys I slept with seemed worthless. I felt gross, you know, with the last guy I had brought over, the one who made himself breakfast. It felt like I was betraying _you_ , and I had to stop. I couldn't have sex with anyone else. I couldn't _be_ with anyone else.” He glanced up briefly, regret once more filling his gaze, reminding Myungjun of the morning he walked away from Bin. “I'm so sorry, though, for kissing you. I'm sorry for pushing you away. I'm sorry for not sitting down and having this entire conversation with you earlier. I'm sorry for everything, Myungjun. It ate at me alive even as I did it, but I was too damn selfish to stop. I was too _scared_ of what would happen if we started dating and I lost you.”

Myungjun waited for him to pause, and he added, “You almost lost me by not doing anything at all.”

Bin winced. “At the time, I felt I'd be damned if I acted on my feelings and damned if I didn't. I know, now, that I should have _tried_. I should have given us the opportunity ages ago, and it's my own fault I didn't. I won't excuse anything I've done; I just want for you to know the reason.”

It was quiet again in the practice room. Myungjun mulled over Bin's words, examined the guilty look in his eyes, and came to the exact same conclusion he had at Dongmin's apartment.

“I forgive you,” he whispered.

Bin blinked, surprised. “Y-You do? Just like that?”

“Well, I spent eight days moping around Dongmin's place. I've had time to think it through.” Myungjun shrugged his shoulders. “And you gave me a small explanation before I left our apartment, you know. That replayed in my mind. And Dongmin told me what you told him, and I've read all of your messages. I forgive you.”

Bin seemed conflicted; he smiled, at first, but then his lips were tugged downward. “But, Myungjun, everything I did – I led you on, I made you cry so much, I _ignored_ it all, christ, Myungjun, am I worth forgiving?”

“You're worth all of that, and more,” Myungjun responded, and he smiled for Bin. “You had been at fault. Seriously. You fucked me up real nice there for a while, Bin.” He laughed at Bin's forlorn expression, reaching his foot out to tap his friend's knee. “But it gave me a chance to consider everything. Anytime you talked to me, I figured out more the torment _you_ were going through. I recognized the fact that you regretted all that you did. And I realized, the longer I put off forgiving you, the more you'll suffer. I didn't like us suffering. We both have. Equally, too, I think, because at least I had Dongmin by my side. You had no one. Except, maybe, Minhyuk?”

Bin scoffed and shook his head. “Minhyuk didn't side with anyone. He said we were both idiots. Sanha agreed with him, too.”

“Sanha agrees to whatever Minhyuk says,” Myungjun pointed out. “But, Binnie, the point is that I had support, at least. If I had been alone, I think I would have gone nuts.”

“You haven't seen my sticky notes, then, if you think I _wasn't_ going nuts.”

“Oh, I saw those. It hurt my heart.” Myungjun clutched his chest, getting Bin to finally giggle again, to relax a little bit from his tense position. “Binnie, I know you've felt bad about it all, but I don't want you to feel bad anymore. I don't want to start off with either of us feeling guilty. I want...I want it to be new, like we just met again for the first time. I want us to only look toward the future. Not to say we'll completely forget, because I don't think we should ever ignore our mistakes, but...” He trailed off, struggling to find the words to finish what he needed to say, but it appeared Bin understood enough for him.

“Focus on the future and just remember the past,” he muttered.

Myungjun nodded his head. “Exactly,” he replied. “I want to have a great future, a brilliant future, but I don't think we'll be able to do that if we both just wallow about in what we did wrong.”

Bin, sitting up a little straighter against the mirror, sighed and ran his fingers through his messy hair. “I did so much wrong.”

“And I think you've made up for it.”

“Not yet. I'm not at the part yet where I finally get to love you.”

Myungjun couldn't help the giggle that escaped his mouth. He tried to cover his face, but Bin noticed his blush and cooed over him, reaching his hand out to pat Myungjun's knee. “I'm going to have the cutest boyfriend in the entire world!”

Trying to ward him off, Myungjun slapped lightly at his hand, laughing again. “Shut up!” he exclaimed. “You're not _going_ to have the cutest boyfriend in the entire world. You-”

“I already _do_ have the cutest boyfriend?” Bin teased. “Is that what you were going to say?”

Bin knew him all too well and Myungjun loved it. He switched positions, moving to sit beside Bin instead of in front of him, and then stared down at Bin's hand. He wanted to hold it, longed to hold it, just as any couple could do. But they weren't a conventional couple, and they had just gone through lengthy periods of pain. He didn't know if Bin would consider it appropriate at this point in their renewed relationship, and so he didn't ask.

Still, Bin seemed to know exactly what he wanted. Myungjun had always figured that their understanding of each other was _why_ they would make such a great couple, why they always got on so well together, and he cherished the fact that they could practically read each others' minds. Bin reached out and grabbed onto his hand, bringing it up slowly to his face before planting a kiss on the knuckles. “Is this alright?” he whispered.

Myungjun's heart nearly stopped, and he felt short of breath. “It's perfect,” he responded.

Bin rewarded him with a large grin, dopey and sweet and showcasing such joy that Myungjun found it difficult to look away from him.

“Junnie?”

“Hm?”

“I know you said to focus on the future, but I just have one more question.”

Myungjun nodded his head before leaning up against Bin and smiling up at him. “Ask away.”

Bin shifted, getting in a more comfortable position and letting his legs splay out in front of him. He moved Myungjun's head slightly, allowing it to rest on his shoulder, and Myungjun resisted the urge to squeal over what a pleasure it was to finally get the chance to do this as a couple. “What did you think,” Bin started, “when you first saw me?”

Of course that was what he would ask. Myungjun didn't expect anything different, and he rolled his eyes, though he chose to answer the question. “I thought, _so this is how I meet the love of my life_.”

“You didn't.”

“Oh, trust me, I did.”

“That's cheesy as hell.”

“All part of the package.”

Bin laughed, kissing Myungjun's head and smoothing down his hair. “I accept it all.”

Myungjun felt truly happy, for what seemed like the first time in weeks. Love, warmth, joy; emotions he thought he had lost forever, but they all seeped back into his life as suddenly as they had left. He welcomed it, though, as it was such a pure change from the pain of before. He curled further into Bin's touch, unable to hide his excitement with their new start, and he murmured into Bin's chest, “it'd be a mistake not to.”

 

****************************

 

There were those moments where things were _too_ peaceful. Where life had slowed down, where Myungjun had time to think, time to admire beauty, time to consider _but what if things were less perfect_.

He never thought he had a perfect life. There were hiccups in the road, obstacles to overcome, a boyfriend with an affinity for biting to deal with.

(“It's not even kinky biting,” Myungjun had complained once to a flustered Dongmin. “I like kinky biting, and he does it when I ask him to, you know, when things get steamy, but this is just such _random_ biting-”

“Please stop,” Dongmin had mumbled.)

Myungjun had long since decided, however, that _perfection_ wasn't something he wanted to attain. He was comfortable enough with his life. He _liked_ figuring out hiccups and overcoming obstacles and allowing his arm to turn into a chew toy for his weird boyfriend.

(“ _Seriously_ ,” Myungjun had later exclaimed to Dongmin over a few drinks, “it's gentle enough, I guess, he's only left a mark once on accident – he leaves more marks during sex, you know, but that's to be expected – but I don't understand what started this-”

“I'm going to Jinwoo's place,” Dongmin had declared.)

So when things seemed too perfect, too amazing, Myungjun had to put a stop to it and revert back to his chaotic life.

He glanced over at his weird, biting boyfriend, at his serene expression as he stared up at the night sky, at his soft smile and gentle features.

Too perfect.

Myungjun took his chance and rolled over, on top of Bin's chest, hovering right over his face. Bin looked displeased to be interrupted from his peace and quiet. “Junnie,” he whined, “I was stargazing.”

“I'm the only star you'll ever need.”

“The sun is a star,” Bin pointed out, and while he had initially acted irritated from Myungjun's interference, he still wrapped his arms around him. “I need the sun.”

“I'll be your sun,” Myungjun whispered, and he bent down to kiss Bin's cheek. “And I'll be your sky. And all the stars up there.”

Bin hummed against Myungjun's lips as he returned his kiss, threading his fingers through Myungjun's messy, brown hair. “You already are, babe.”

“Gross,” Myungjun gagged. “Cheesy.”

“Yeah, well, you rubbed off on me pretty well.” Bin gave a small chuckle and Myungjun noticed that the serene expression he held for the stars was completely different once his eyes were on Myungjun. Now they were filled to the brim with adoration, twinkling and shining brighter than any of the lights hanging in the night sky. As if he couldn't contain it all within just his stare, he confessed, too, just as he did every single day of the week: “I love you, Junnie.”

“I love you, Bin,” Myungjun replied, and he couldn't help the way his cheeks were pushed up into a wide smile.

“I love you _so much!_ ” Bin exclaimed, and he tugged Myungjun closer down to him, rolling over so they were both on their sides. “Even if you planned our big one-year anniversary event to be in the middle of the night.”

Myungjun scoffed. “Unexpected is my middle name.”

“I _should_ have expected this, honestly, because it's just like you.” Bin snorted, peppering kisses across Myungjun's forehead. “I thought when you told me it'd be a picnic, it'd be, like, lunch or dinner or something.”

“Midnight snacks are even better.”

“It's not even midnight. It's-” Bin glanced down at the watch he wore around his wrist, then displayed the time to Myungjun. “Two in the morning.”

And, yet, despite how late it was, despite the fact they both had work the next morning, Myungjun still appeared bright. “Early breakfast, then!”

Bin just laughed, and Myungjun knew that he was forgoing the argument that the food they ate would _not_ be considered breakfast food, and that they had been out on their picnic already for a few hours, nowhere near breakfast time, and that they _should_ be getting home soon so they were both well-rested for work. But he said none of that, though Myungjun was certain it must have danced around in his mind. Instead, he just continued to stare at Myungjun, gaze still filled with love that he saved solely for his boyfriend.

And Myungjun, too, hoped that Bin could detect all that same love reflected back at him.

“I'm so happy,” Bin whispered, “that I took the chance.”

Myungjun smiled. “I am, too,” he agreed.

“I'm so happy. I want to spend every single moment with you, Junnie. I love waking up with you and going to bed with you. I love eating breakfast with you, even if we eat it at two in the morning, apparently. I want _you_ only for the rest of my life.”

Myungjun raised his eyebrows. “Moon Bin, are you proposing to me? This sounds like a proposal. You're _not_ , are you, because Jinwoo told me it's uncouth to propose on the one-year anniversary.”

“When should I do it then, hm?” Bin pinched his side. “Two-year anniversary?”

“ _Not_ an anniversary, Jinwoo said. Because then I'm expecting something amazing. He says you have to propose when I _least_ expect it, you know? Surprise me. Wow me. That's what Jinwoo said.”

Bin scoffed. “And how many relationships has Jinwoo been in?”

“One, and he's engaged, so I think he knows more than either of us.”

With a sigh, Bin brushed Myungjun's bangs out of his forehead, giving him more places to kiss. “Fine,” he murmured, lips pressing down on Myungjun's skin. “I'll wait. I'll surprise you when I do, though. You'd best not expect anything at all. It'll happen at the least opportune moment.”

“He also said for you not to propose during sex.”

Bin cursed, drawing back and furrowing his eyebrows. “Then how the hell am I supposed to surprise you properly?”

“You're lewd,” Myungjun complained, but he didn't dare move from Bin's warm embrace. He supposed he should, at one point or another, so they could pack up their belongings and head home. But here, laying on their picnic blanket, an empty bottle of wine and a small basket of uneaten foods close beside them, the stars twinkling brightly overhead – here seemed like the most beautiful spot in the whole world.

Maybe it was because Bin was beside him, though Myungjun refused to say it in case Bin called him _cheesy_.

Bin gave a small sigh, running a finger along Myungjun's cheek. “It was a mistake,” he mumbled, “to not start dating you sooner.”

“Past is in the past,” Myungjun reminded him. “We focus on the future.”

“Right, right.” Bin grinned devilishly. “Then it'd be a mistake not to propose to you sooner.”

Myungjun sometimes wasn't sure how he was supposed to deal with Bin and all of his stupid antics. He didn't know _why_ he loved Bin so much, especially when he acted so silly and immature, and yet, even with such a dumb sentence, something Myungjun should hate, he felt nothing but happiness.

“Do you really want to propose _that_ bad?” Myungjun asked. When Bin eagerly nodded his head, Myungjun realized he would have no choice but to accept.

(Besides, his heart was hammering in his chest, and anticipation flooded his entire being. He longed for this moment.)

He sat up, allowing Bin space to sit up, as well, and cleared his throat. “Propose, then, Binnie.”

Bin looked absolutely ecstatic, and he began his spiel. It seemed he had practiced, something Myungjun found completely endearing. “Myungjunnie, I've made mistakes in our past. I know you tell me to focus solely on the future, but I like to remember my mistakes so I'll never make them again. And I think it _would_ be a mistake to wait to propose to you, to continue solely as your _boyfriend_ and not your _husband_. So, Myungjun-” He reached into his pocket and took a deep breath. “Myungjun, will you...will you, um-”

He reached into his other pocket, eyes growing wide suddenly. “Shit!” he exclaimed.

It was difficult not to let out a large exhale. Things had been going _too_ perfect. Myungjun should have expected this. “You forgot the ring.” It was a statement, not a question. He wondered why he didn't see this coming.

“I could've _sworn_ I put it in my pocket before we left! Oh, damn, Junnie, I think I left it on the bed!”

“It'll be a cool present for when we get home,” Myungjun pointed out. “But, hey, you've managed to surprise me! And Jinwoo says-”

“Myungjun, I dont' care what Jinwoo says, I just-”

Myungjun spoke over him. “- _Jinwoo says_ a surprise is a great way to begin an engagement!”

Bin didn't look very impressed by Jinwoo's repeated words of wisdom. “I don't think forgetting an _engagement ring_ is the right start to an _engagement_.”

“Well, regardless of a ring, I do accept!” Myungjun said, his voice bright and cheery. “And, besides, it isn't a perfect engagement, which makes it _perfect_.”

Bin probably wasn't following along with Myungjun's skewed logic, but it wasn't as if Myungjun cared any. His life wasn't perfect, his job wasn't perfect, and, best of all, his relationship with Bin wasn't perfect. There were hiccups, obstacles, weird bites from an odd boyfriend.

(“We've been practicing how to do it _kinkier_ , you know,” Myungjun had told Dongmin once, “so it's like I'm training him to only bite me during sex – is that weird? It sounds weird.”

“I need a recommendation letter so I can apply for a new job,” Dongmin had responded.)

Myungjun hadn't expected the proposal to be perfect. He hadn't expected Bin to propose in the middle of the night during their little picnic, and he hadn't expected the ring to be forgotten, and he hadn't expected the lack of _pizzazz_ in the entire ordeal.

That's what made it all so wonderful, though.

“You can't accept my proposal without a ring!” Bin was arguing as Myungjun began to pack up their picnic dinner (or breakfast, whichever one it was).

“Too late.”

“I didn't even fully propose! I trailed off!”

“Well, then, I'll propose.” Myungjun grinned over at Bin. “Bin, will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

Bin let out a loud yell and fell back onto the blanket, covering his face with his arms. “This is so _dumb!_ ” he moaned. “Myungjun, come _on!_ ”

Myungjun just giggled and climbed over his boyfriend. “Do you accept my proposal?”

“Junnie-”

“Are you _rejecting_ my proposal?” Myungjun gasped in shock.

“No, of course not-”

“So we're engaged.”

Bin peeked out from behind his arms, glaring up at Myungjun's sneaky expression. “Myungjun-”

“It'd be a _dreadful_ mistake, Binnie, to _not_ accept properly.”

It seemed Bin was weighing his options, biting at his lip and wondering exactly what to do. Fortunately, he chose correctly (just as Myungjun knew he would). He sat up, holding tightly onto Myungjun so the older boy remained in his lap, and looked up at him. “I accept,” he whispered, “and will gladly become your husband.”

Myungjun couldn't help but bend over and kiss Bin, once, twice, three times, and when he drew back, he found that face smiling back up at him, the face Bin reserved solely for him, harnessing all the love the universe held in its grasp and displaying it all for Myungjun to see. It made Myungjun's heart race and it made his cheeks flush. He bumped foreheads with Bin, grasping onto his hands, allowing their warmth to be shared.

“I'm not making a mistake,” Bin murmured, “not ever again.”

“No,” Myungjun laughed lightly, and he kissed Bin again. “No more mistakes.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ALREADY MISS THIS LIL UNIVERSE! the jincha was super fun to write, and the myungbin was super fun to write, and the socky (if there was any) was practically nonexistent BUT PLS PRETEND THEY'RE THERE. i hope all of you liked this chapter, and i REALLY hope all of you liked the entire story in general! thank you for waiting over a month for my lazy butt to get up and complete it (i wrote 9K all today, go seal), and i hope i won't keep you guys waiting on stories for too much longer!
> 
> please feel free to like and comment, or to head over to [@vonseal](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com) for more fun and excitement as I ramble practically every night! i love all of you, i love astro!!!


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